


Spies and lovers, lies and covers

by inthepapers3times



Category: London Spy
Genre: Alex lives, M/M, Same first meeting, different everything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5186204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthepapers3times/pseuds/inthepapers3times
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex has been missing for a few days when Danny is mysteriously guided to his apartment. There, he makes a shocking discovery, and together with Alex is forced to run for his life. On the run, another discovery will flip his life upside down forever: Alex is a spy. Together, they need to figure out what's going on, who's after them, and most importantly, if they can still trust each other.<br/>Danny, as it turns out, has some secrets of his own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The discovery

The man on the bridge was definitely not fine. Alex usually didn't let himself get distracted when he ran, but something in him made him slow his pace when he saw the person throw his phone to the ground. 

The man wasn't dressed for the morning cold in his shirt the colour of mustard. He looked exhausted, like he had been up all night. 

Maybe he was coming back from a party, maybe he was just hungover, and that was it. Or maybe -and it was this thought that made Alex come to a stop- there was something seriously wrong with him. All Alex knew was that he needed to ask, or he would keep thinking about this stranger on the bridge for the rest of the day. The man started picking up the pieces if his phone, and Alex crouched down to help him. When he looked up, he was struck by the sadness in the stranger's eyes, eyes that looked at him, yet didn't seem to be sure of what they saw. 

The man's messy hair hung over his forehead, his face was pink due to the cold, and formed a stark contrast with the London Eye in the distance. 

“Are you okay?” Alex asked. It wasn't like him to care for strangers, but he needed to know. 

“Me?” the man asked, as if he wasn't sure Alex was addressing him. “I'm fine,” his eyes moved everywhere as he said it. He was lying. 

Again, Alex didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he took the cap off his drink and offered it to the man, who took it hesitantly. 

“You don't know me but if you did you'd know I'm always fine,” he said, rambling. It seemed to be difficult for him to focus his eyes on one point. He was on drugs. Of course. That explained everything. 

Before he could stop himself, Alex tenderly touched his face, startling himself. Why did he do that? He straightened, and turned his back on the man. Why did he touch this twitchy stranger? He didn't look back at the man, who was still crouching on the ground with the pieces of broke phone in his hand, and started running again. This time, it felt like he was running from himself. Why did he do this? It was not like him at all. 

“What about your drink?” the man yelled. 

Shit. “You can keep it!” he shouted hastily, and kept running. _This is London_ , he told himself. _You'll never see him again._

He wasn't sure if that was a relief or quite the opposite.

****

Focussing on his work was difficult. The stranger had gotten under his skin, and he wasn't sure why. Things like this didn't happen to him, they simply didn't. Meeting a stranger on a bridge, helping him pick up his stuff… it was such a cliché, wasn't it? Like something out of a bad movie. And yet, he saw the brown eyes look up at him for the rest of the day, friendly eyes that couldn't believe what they were seeing. 

****

He was running again. The stranger had been on his mind for the past few days, even if he didn't like to admit that to himself. When Alex saw him get up from the stairs he was running towards, he thought he was daydreaming for a moment. He slowed down, and looked down at himself. He was drenched in sweat. Not his best look, probably.

The stranger ran to him with a warm smile. He was holding the empty container. “I wanted to say thank you. What I didn't get to say. Last time.” He made a vague gesture. 

Alex didn't know what to say.

“I just had a hunch,” the man continued. 

What did that mean? 

He was rambling on, again. Apparently not all of that had been the drugs. “Obviously, I've got this wrong,” he said with a nervous laugh. 

What did he want? Alex had never been this confused in his life. What had he gotten wrong? 

The stranger placed the empty container on the ground, and walked away. He seemed annoyed for some reason, as if Alex wasn't catching up on something that he should…  
He picked up the container, and looked at the man, to find that he was coming back. Why did that make Alex feel relieved? 

That nervous laugh again. It was endearing, in a way. “My name is Danny.” 

Alex knew what was expected of him, so the lie rolled off his tongue with ease: “My name is Joe.” 

“Do you… want to walk with me for a bit?” Danny clasped his hands in front of his stomach and stood on his tiptoes, swinging back and forth a bit like he was anxiously waiting for the answer to a very important question. 

Alex smiled. “Sure,” he said. He wanted to find out what it was about this 'Danny' that made him feel this way, whatever that feeling was. 

They walked next to each other for a bit, and Danny asked him one question after the other, like he couldn't ever know enough about Alex, no, Joe. He was Joe now. 

“Do you live in London?” “Yes.” “Oh, right. That was a stupid question. Do you run every day?” “If I can.” He looked happy about every answer he got, even though they were short. 

Was that suspicious? Who had sent him? Alex shook himself out of that thought. Danny wasn't sent by anyone, he was simply a very curious bloke. “So Joe, are you…” Danny hesitated. “I've run out of questions.” That was a lie. Again. 

Danny couldn't be a secret agent, his lying game was way too weak for that. Or it was an act. He had to stop thinking of potential friends as potential spies. This was why things never worked out, wasn't it? “Ask me. Please.” Obviously, there was something Danny desperately wanted to know, but didn't dare ask. Alex was curious to see what it could be. 

“Are you out?” The question was asked so bluntly, and Danny looked at him with so much sincere curiosity and concern, that Alex was slightly taken aback by it. He stopped walking, with his hands in his pockets. “… No.” he said. A truth to compensate the lie about his name. 

Danny smiled at him and nodded, as if he understood. But he didn't did he? A guy like him wouldn't understand. Danny had probably been out for ages, judging by how bluntly he was able to ask things like that. He probably was an open book, a man without secrets, who never had to worry about which lies he had told to whom, because he was always honest. He was a man who had nothing to protect. Nothing to lose. Well, for Alex, one simple truth or lie could be the difference between life and death. And Danny would never know that feeling, even if he pretended to understand this tiny part of it. “If you want to go, I can understand that reaction.” Alex said mechanically. 

The answer surprised him. “I don't want to go.” This time, Danny wasn't lying. 

Alex wasn't sure what to do now. What did people usually do in situations like this? Normal people? “Would you… like a drink?” he asked, cringing at himself. 

But Danny just grinned like he had been hoping for the question and said “Yes,” and Alex could already feel that it would be the most important yes -for better or worse- he would ever get. 

****

**Eighth months later:**

He didn't know why or how, but someone had guided him towards the keys to Alex' apartment. Danny's heart was racing the whole time, making his way to the building Alex lived. Were they over? He had told Alex about the most traumatic experience of his life, and then Alex had just disappeared. After eight months of dating, he would have expected a break up to be face to face. It wasn't like Alex to just drop off the radar, especially after something like that. It wasn't like him to break up with Danny by simply not returning his calls. Alex was amazing, even if Danny knew hardly anything about him. He didn't know many facts, but he did know that what he felt -what _they_ felt- was real. He knew it with all his heart. 

Maybe this was some kind of prank? Or would Alex be waiting there with a surprise? 

A proposal?

He wasn't sure what to think of that, if that were true. To disappear for days was a no-no, even if it was to plan a ridiculously romantic proposal. 

Unlocking the door felt strange. He had gotten used to the camera above the door, just like he had gotten used to the incredibly impersonal apartment. He had always figured they would move in together after a few years, and he would either turn Alex' place into a mess, or Alex would tidy up Danny's place, like he had done with Danny's life, in a way. He felt happier with Alex, content, at ease, calmer. That was the word, calmer. 

“Alex?” 

No answer. He went through every room, and was starting to panic. Where the hell was Alex? Who had given him the keys? 

He heard a soft dripping sound, and thought it might be Alex coming out of the shower, but it was water leaking from the ceiling. Weird. Alex wouldn't let anything like that happen. He would have repairmen here within a day. So he hadn't been home in a long time then. 

But the keys…? Something was not right here, and he dreaded finding out just how bad it would be.

Water. How could there be water coming from upstairs? There was an attic there, but Alex said it was full of junk of generations of previous tenants. He had never bothered cleaning it out, since he didn't need the extra space anyway. 

Danny folded down the ladder, suddenly feeling like he was not supposed to be here. He had never been here without Alex, and even at times when Alex was just in the shower or in another room, he sometimes felt like an intruder. The house had that effect on him. He climbed the ladder, and the first thing he thought was “Alex has never lied to me before”. There was no junk. The room was spacious, with a bed -which was odd- and some furniture. Maybe that was the surprise? Maybe Alex was hiding here somewhere, to proudly announce they had a second bedroom now? Or that he could use this space as a sort of hobby-room? 

He walked to the bed slowly, listening carefully if he heard Alex somewhere. A thought pushed into his brain: _Alex did lie to you. The second time you met. His name isn't Joe._ Yes, that had been pretty weird, but Alex simply was a very private person. Nothing wrong with that. Was there? 

Danny frowned when he saw the music box. It was an odd thing to have, wasn't it? Not something Alex would own. He opened it. 

Drugs. What the hell? None of this made sense. He closed it again.

The closet by the bed drew his attention. It was big, which meant that Alex had to have moved it upstairs in pieces, and assembled it here. But with what purpose? He opened it, and what he found was so absurd his mind went temporarily blank. SM-clothes. Why? He had never expressed an interest in that, and neither had Alex. 

Was that why Alex said it was full of junk? Because he was embarrassed by what the previous tenant had left behind? 

Danny opened a drawer full of sextoys. Yes, this was definitely something that Alex would rather keep silent about, than have to talk about with Danny. Or be seen with when he got rid of it. 

That was the only explanation. 

Danny looked around, and saw a suitcase in the corner. Something about it didn't fit the rest of the room, it looked older, less modern. He approached it, and was hit by an unpleasant smell coming from it. What was it? It smelled like something was rotting. Old clothes? Could they emanate such a smell? 

He carefully opened one of the metal loops, and the smell got worse. Danny covered his nose with his sleeve. His panic got worse. Alex wasn't here. He hadn't been here for days. He hadn't returned Danny's calls. No one had ever been in this room. There was a suitcase in the corner with an unknown content… he knew what he was going to find, and a loud gasp escaped him. He had to know for sure. He opened the second loop, and opened the suitcase. He screamed and stumbled back when the dead eyes of the body became visible. Alex. It had to be A-

He was tackled to the ground, and before he had a chance to react, someone had pinned him down with both hands above his head, and was aiming a gun right in his face. For one long, terrible second, he knew he was going to die here. Just like Alex. He clenched his eyes shut, but could still see the dead eyes, he held his breath but could still not calm his heartbeat, and he tried not to think, but could only think of how this was the end. Then the person sitting on his stomach gasped, and said “Danny?!” with so much relief and disbelief that Danny was sure he had dreamt it. He opened his eyes. 

Alex had let go of his hand within a second, and now clasped his hand over Danny's mouth. He shook his head. “Ssh. No time.” he whispered. 

He got up and pulled Danny up as well. “They'll be here soon,” he whispered, at the exact moment the door downstairs got kicked down.


	2. Doubt

“Wipe your prints!” Alex whispered urgently, and pushed Danny towards the suitcase, gesturing at it wildly, while he ran towards the bed himself. 

For a moment, Danny couldn't move, he was frozen to the spot in shock. Then he ran to the suitcase, and tried not to look at the dead body while he used his sleeve to wipe at anything he might have touched. He ran to the closet as well, wiping at the drawers randomly, but there was no time to be thorough, multiple footsteps were running through the house downstairs. 

Alex was tearing the mattress off the bed and dragging it towards the trapdoor, to use it to block the entrance. As soon as he had the mattress in place, he ran to Danny again, and whispered “Through here!”. He took Danny's hand and pulled him with him towards the wall. There was a hole in the wooden wall, the splinters were all over the floor, like it had been kicked in from the outside. _This makes no sense_ Danny thought vaguely. _How can the wall be kicked in? It's brick, isn't it?_

“Police! Stay where you are!” someone shouted from beneath the trapdoor. The mattress moved a tiny bit, as someone tried to open the trapdoor. 

Alex was already lying down, squeezing through the hole feet first. He pushed himself backwards until only his head and arms were still visible. “Follow me!”he whispered with terrifying urgency in his voice. Then he disappeared. 

Danny regained some of his senses, he saw the mattress move up a bit, again and again, and move slightly to the side. Before long, they would be able to climb through it and reach them, and he wasn't sure what would happen then, only that it was not good. Not good at all. He lay down and did as Alex had done, squeezing through the hole in the wall feet first, fully aware that they were several floors up. Someone grabbed his ankles and pulled, he stifled a scream - he would fall, he would fly through the air for two seconds and all would be over, but no -he was pulled onto a ledge, and the person who had pulled him was Alex, who held his finger to his lips in a warning. 

_Don't make a sound_ , the gesture said. _Or they'll kill us_ , the panic in eyes made clear. They were seven or eight meters up at least, standing on a narrow ledge at the back of Alex' apartment. Alex pointed down, at the bushes there. 

Danny's eyes widened in shock as he realised what Alex meant. He shook his head in silent panic, and the next moment he was pushed off the ledge and felt like his heart would stop. He couldn't even blink before he landed on the bushes, and his arms and one leg sunk deep into the shrubbery. He pulled them out, saw the countless scratches on his arms and hands, and the next moment Alex landed beside him, half on top of his leg, but more elegant than Danny. 

Alex got up without saying a word, seemingly not minding the pain of the landing, took Danny's hand, pulled him off the bushes and ran. 

Danny had no choice but to run along. He had never been more frightened in his life, and he felt his heart beat so fast and hard that he was certain he would have a heart attack soon. 

Alex seemed to know exactly what to do, he dragged Danny with him through a narrow path between two houses, leading to the road. There, they ran along the pavement for just a few meters, before Alex pulled Danny into another alleyway, and they ended up at another road. Here, he let go of Danny's hand and opened the door of a car, gesturing for Danny to get in on the other side. In his panic, Danny didn't even realise it wasn't Alex' car, he just got in as quickly as he could, and the second he was in his seat, Alex sped off. 

****

If Alex hadn't been shaken to his core, he might have been impressed by how well Danny handled all of this. He did what he was told, he didn't panic, and he ran quite fast for a smoker. Alex stepped on the gas, and looked in his rear-view mirror every few seconds, but at least for now it didn't look as if they were followed. Danny was looking straight ahead with wide open eyes, his lips were moving as if he were saying a silent prayer, but he didn't speak. “Danny?” Alex said softly. He hoped Danny wasn't going into shock. 

“What did… why...” Danny stammered, followed by a high-pitched noise which sounded like a laugh and a panicked cry in one. 

“We'll be fine,” Alex said, overtaking a car, and speeding towards the highway. Speedlimits be damned.

Danny sank back in his seat, and Alex let go of the steering wheel with one hand to grab Danny's seatbelt and click it into place. “Are you hurt?” he asked. Danny shook his head, then he looked down at his hands and pushed up his sleeves. There were cuts on his arms all the way to his elbows. 

“I'm so sorry, Danny!” Alex said. He had to push him. Danny wouldn't have jumped. Not in time. And some cuts and bruises were nothing compared to what might have happened if he had hesitated. His heart was beating fast, and he couldn't even imagine how bad it would be for Danny. At least he had always known something like this might happen. Danny was totally unprepared for it, though he had behaved in a way that might suggest otherwise… No, he was not allowed to think that way. He needed to focus on one thing, and one thing only: getting them out of here alive. 

****

“Why did we just run from the police?” Danny's voice was shaking, and so was his entire body. They had incriminated themselves by running, hadn't they? There had to be an explanation for the… the body in the attic. They could have explained all of it, if they had stayed. Running was an admission of guilt. He knew that. Alex knew that. Everybody bloody knew that. So why did they run?

Alex was speeding with a grim expression on his face. He normally always complied with speedlimits, but now he was going at least thirty over. He glanced at Danny briefly. His face was stern, his brow furrowed with worry and fear. “That wasn't the police,” he said grimly. “The police rings the bell before kicking down a door. This was MI6. If we're lucky.”

What? But- “Why would MI6-?”

“Because I AM MI6!” Alex snapped. He pulled his hair, a sign of stress Danny had never seen him do before, and dragged his hand along his cheek. His fingers left white traces on his cheek, that regained their colour within seconds. “I'm a codebreaker for MI6. And now they're after us.” He put his hand back on the steering wheel. Something inside of him seemed broken. 

Danny laughed, a shrill, high, nervous laugh. “No. That makes no sense. You said you were-”

“A banker?” Alex asked, sounding exhausted. He forced a smile, which wasn't like him at all. There were tears in his eyes. “I don't work for an investment bank, Danny. I'm sorry. I'm a spy.”

He was telling the truth. Danny was certain of that. 

So it had been a lie. All of it. How could he have been so stupid? How could he not have known? 

He felt numb. He wanted to be angry at Alex for lying, but he was only angry at himself for not having known. It made so much _sense_. In hindsight, it had all been right in front of him from the very beginning. It all came back to him now, every odd thing that had ever happened, things he had dismissed because he trusted Alex. How Alex turned the music up when they talked, how there were no personal items in his house, how he didn't like to talk about himself. 

A bloody spy. Of course. 

He had no clue where they were going, or what had just happened, or what would happen from now on. There were hundreds of things he needed to ask, but one question was loudest. “Were we...” it hurt even thinking it, but he needed to know. “Were we fake? Was I… was I your mission?” 

Alex didn't slow down, but he looked at Danny for a second, and his expression changed to confusion. “What? We… no!” He gripped the steering wheel tighter, and sped up. And then, his expression changed again.

****

**Looking back on eight months ago – Alex:**

“I work for an investment bank.” He had told the lie before, to neighbours and curious workmen. “It's their apartment.” People usually believed it. Some asked him if he didn't mind the invasion of privacy, and he always thought that a lack of privacy was a little price to pay for staying alive, but he always just said that there were some security concerns, and that he had nothing to hide anyway. 

Danny didn't ask any questions, he just seemed really impressed by the apartment. 

Alex went for a quick shower, and when he came out, Danny had that carefully neutral expression on his face that told him straight away that he had been going through his things. It was fine, really. Curiosity was a normal thing, and he really didn't have anything to hide. Not on this floor. 

It was only when they were sitting in the restaurant he had picked, that he realised they were on a date. A real, honest-to-God, sit-down date. It felt rather nice. 

Danny was eyeing the menu with disbelief and despair. 

Oh shit. He shouldn't have picked this restaurant. He leaned forward. “I can pay,” he said reassuringly. 

Danny laughed. “I must be easy to read.” He was, or at least, back then Alex thought he was. He liked that about Danny. It made him feel safe. 

But now, he wasn't sure what to think. Had it all been an act? It was strange, wasn't it, the way Danny saw right through him? First, when he asked if Alex was out. Then, when he asked if he had done a background-check on him -the answer to which didn't seem to faze him in the slightest. And then, in the same conversation, the question if he could tell him his real name now. 

Alex hadn't been kidding when he said that Danny's appearance of innocence would have been the reason he was selected. It wouldn't be the first time that a foreign intelligence service set a person up to meet someone who they suspected to be a spy. But how would they have known he'd be attracted to Danny, even before Alex knew that himself? Had theirs been simply the last one in a string of chance-encounters he dismissed, encounters with strangers whom he didn't think twice about, but who had been spies trying to seduce him? 

Alex knew he wasn't transparent, and yet Danny could always tell that he was hiding. Always. Was he trained for it? Did he recognise the little clues, the movements of pupils, the slight hesitations, the evasive answers? Was he simply following protocol? Alex had been so worried when he tried to shake his hand after their walk, and Danny said that he had to stop shaking his hand, with a voice that made it clear he was weirded out by it. _Is it over?_ , Alex had thought. _Because I don't move as fast as he wants me to? Is he worried his mission is taking too long, or does he think I'm rejecting him? Or did he just reject me? Can he not get over my pace? Over my refusal to talk about personal things? Does he mind I showed up at his place out of the blue?_ He had watched Danny walk in and close the door behind himself, and had cursed himself for being this way, this emotionally stunted and suspicious. He had stood outside, debating with himself whether he should ring the doorbell and say he had made a mistake, when suddenly Danny was back.

Danny could always tell. 

Right from the very beginning. Why?

They had gone up, Danny had sort-of apologised for the state his room was in, probably with Alex' incredibly tidy place in mind, had moved in closer and taken his hand. And that was when Alex knew he was fucked: when he was standing in Danny's untidy room, with Danny's hand in his, and everything inside Alex said 'run' but he decided to stay. 

Alex didn't like to think about what happened after, the panic when they were naked, the way his body froze up and he simply couldn't do it. He was embarrassed to think back on Danny's incredible kindness, how he had rubbed his shoulders and said 'I understand', even though at that point Alex was certain Danny didn't. It wasn't shame he felt for his body, it was shame about how he was. Shy and inexperienced. Far removed from Danny's world. 

“Take a bath,” Danny had said, without any kind of judgement in his voice. “It helps, I swear.”

And Alex, despite all his instincts saying no, hadn't objected. In the bath, he had talked about things he had never spoken of before. He had talked about his childhood. Looking back, he didn't know why, but he was honest. 

“How do you admit to someone, you've never been in a relationship? Who wants to hear? And when they do, who wants to stay?” He wasn't sure why he said it. Perhaps he hoped that Danny would realise they were too different, because they were. They were worlds apart, in ways Danny couldn't even imagine. He was hoping Danny would run, but he was also hoping he would stay, and these conflicting feelings opened doors within him he had always kept closed. 

He was not prepared for the answer. Danny said the words softly, but with sincerity, looking at Alex at eye-level, with his head leaning on his arms. “I do.”

Alex felt like he needed to explain. He could tell that none of it made sense to Danny. Why he was inexperienced, despite his age, his looks, his… everything. “In school I was old, in university I was young.” It was a sensitive topic for him. He had been held back in school, for failing English. Languages were strange to him, foreign. He couldn't understand small subtlety’s, there was no logic in the spelling of words. Bear didn't rhyme with hear. But beer did with here. And beard and heard didn't sound the same. There were no set formula's for words, no tricks he could memorise. But numbers… numbers were easy. Eventually, he got his grades for English up, with much difficulty, and his amazing grades for all other subjects allowed him to start university a few years early. He had been excited about that; he would finally be able to focus solely on the numbers. Most people in his class were four to ten years older than he was. When they did groupwork, they treated him like a child, until their suspicion of him turned into an annoyed kind of admiration. They resented it that a fifteen year old was as smart as, or even smarter than them. He was the odd one out, always. So he developed a thick skin, built an impenetrable armour around himself. There had never been someone he felt a connection with. Not until he met Danny. 

“In the end I’d left it so late that I gave up. I told myself I was all about the mind - and people found me odd. I grated on them, I could see it in their eyes.” He had always thought that talking about it would be too difficult, but he said the words as if he had said them a hundred times before. “Rather than change I - I started playing a role, more and more.” At that point he thought he needed to stop talking, it was venturing dangerously close to him admitting things he really was not allowed to admit. “I didn’t need anyone. That’s what I told myself: I didn’t want anyone.” Why was he being so honest? He felt like he could talk to Danny, and in that moment he was convinced he could trust him, in a way that was entirely out of step with his character. He never trusted people from the get-go. Why was Danny any different? Thinking back on it now, he wasn't sure if he was. 

“Did you imagine you’d spend the rest of your life alone?” Danny had asked sincerely.

The answer was plain and simple, and he had never admitted this before, perhaps not even to himself. “Yes.” 

Danny had looked sad when Alex said it, and he had regretted his own honesty for a moment. They were incredibly close. Both had their arms on the edge of the bathtub, with their chins on their arms. Alex could feel the warmth of Danny's skin, even though they were not touching. 

Danny felt sorry for him, even if he didn't say it. “I can’t begin to understand what that must feel like,” he said softly. 

Of course he couldn't. No one could. “You always knew you’d find someone?” Alex asked.

“Always.” Danny said it confidently, like he had never doubted it at all.

“I can’t imagine what that must feel like.” He really couldn't, but it had to be an amazing feeling. And as the months progressed, he thought he had found his 'someone', and he stopped doubting Danny. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

****

**Now:**

Danny was used to Alex' silence, and he didn't mind it, most of the time. But now, now he could not blabber on about unimportant stuff, it was maddening. He needed to know what was going on. Perhaps Alex didn't know it himself.

MI6. How could he not have known?

“Where are we going?” he asked after a while. They were still on a highway, and Alex had slowed down, though he still looked in his rearview mirror every few minutes.

“Somewhere they won't find us.” Alex said. Nothing more.

They had been driving for two hours at least, when they stopped at a gas-station. “Do you have any money on you?” Alex asked.

Danny started going through the pockets of his coat, and found a tenner and some change. “Just this.” Alex nodded, and took it. “May I have your mobile phone?” he asked, and Danny gave that to him as well.

Alex took a cap out of the glove compartment, and put it on. Then he filled up the tank, and went inside to pay. As he came back outside, he dropped something into a garbage bin. It was a napkin with something in it. Danny knew it was his mobile phone. Alex got into the car, and they were driving again.

****

The Bed & Breakfast looked cheap, but clean. It was almost eight in the evening, and dark outside. They had only stopped one other time, to get some food. Alex was worried about Danny, since he had pretty much tuned out for the last few hours. He couldn't blame him; they had been driving for eleven hours. He got his suitcase from the trunk, and they went inside, where Danny let Alex do the talking. “Good evening!” 

“Hello there!” the owner of the motel said cheerfully. She was quite sturdy, and had horribly fake, blonde hair, which was tied into a bun on the top of her head, like a little hat. She had to be at least sixty years old.

“My husband and I would like a room for the night.” He was glad he managed to make it sound casual. Looked like the years of training paid off.

“Of course,” she said with a warm smile. “I need one passport, and both your names, please.” 

He smiled at her and put his hand in the inner pocket of his suit, letting the nail of his index finger glide along the many passports in there, until he reached the fifth one. Robert Powell. His least-used alias. He took the passport out, handed it to the woman, and said “My husband's name is Thom Powell. Thom with an H.” It was small details like that, that made people believe a lie. He said it in the casual but rehearsed tone that suggested he had said it many times before. 

She typed in the names, and started telling them where they could find maps of the area, if they fancied a walk. Luckily, Danny started yawning behind Alex, so he could politely cut her off by saying they were rather tired. She gave them the keys, told them breakfast was served at eight, and wished them a good night. 

****

“Where are we?” Danny whispered. He sat down on the bed, and toed off his shoes. He was exhausted, it felt like it was the middle of the night. 

Wick.” Alex said, taking off his coat. “Scotland.”

Danny had heard the accent of the lady downstairs, and of course it made sense after driving so long, but- “Did I fall asleep? I don't remember going past a toll-booth.” 

Alex put the suitcase on the bed, and opened it. He pulled out two pairs of pyjama bottoms, and threw one into Danny's lap. “No, because I avoided taking those roads.”

Danny looked at the pyjama bottoms. “You are… very prepared.” 

Alex stopped going through the suitcase, and sat down next to Danny. He took his hand. “Danny,” he said softly. “I'm so sorry. And I will do my best to explain. But I don't know exactly what's going on.” He sounded sincere, but was he? “If I knew, I'd tell you, I swear. Can you tell me what happened? Why you were in my attic?”

Did Alex think he was involved? “You disappeared,” he said, and suddenly his breaths were shaky. 

Alex let go of his hand and instead put his arms around Danny's shoulders, pulling him closer, so Danny's head was pressed to his shoulder. “I'm so sorry,” he repeated. “I'm sorry for what you had to go through.” 

Danny did his best to calm his breaths, but he started sobbing. Alex just held him, softly stroked his hair, and didn't say a word. “Why… did… you… le-heave,” he managed to say between sobs.

“I'll tell you, I promise. But this is more important… can you please tell me what happened?” He was so calm. How could he be like that, after a day like this?

Danny took a few deep breaths, and once he stopped sobbing, he pulled back a bit, so he could look at Alex, who looked worried, but determined. “In the warehouse… there was a package, for me. And it had your keys.”

Alex frowned, but nodded, prompting Danny to continue. 

“I went to your house. You weren't there. Then I saw water-” He clenched his eyes closed as the realisation hit him. It probably had not been water. Did decomposing bodies release fluids? He felt like he was about to throw up, and shook his head. He couldn't finish that sentence. “So I folded down the ladder to the attic. I thought...” he wasn't sure what he had thought. It felt like it was days ago, when in reality it had been less than half a day. “You weren't there either. And when I saw the suitcase I was afraid you were...” a loud sob escaped him. “… dead. And I opened it, but then you arrived.” 

Alex had been listening in silence. His eyes moved over Danny's face the entire time, looking worried.

“Who was in the suitcase?” Danny asked.

Alex shook his head. “I don't know,” he said softly. “But I do know this: there were people watching us. And the second you opened my door, those people knew you were there.” he seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then he softly touched Danny's cheek. “I knew someone had entered my house, I got the warning on my phone, but I didn't know who. I… I thought that… I was afraid you were already dead.” he closed his eyes for a few seconds. Then he opened them, took Danny's hand, and continued. “I knew I couldn't use the front door, because they were on the look-out, so I needed to use my… my escape route.” 

Everything he said sounded both absolutely crazy and entirely sensible at the same time. It was believable exactly because it was so hard to believe, and Danny could only listen to what he had to say, and assess in his mind whether it made sense.

“That's when I saw someone in there, in my attic, and I thought it was one of them. But it was you.” even now, he sounded relieved. “And you know what happened after, but my point is, I hadn't been in the attic for almost two weeks, I didn't know there was a suitcase, and I don't know who's in there.” His voice begged Danny to believe him.

Something wasn't adding up. “Do you think that they thought it was you? The dead person?” If what Alex said was true, and there had been people watching him, then surely they had wanted to harm Alex? It was in his house as well. And the body had looked enough like him to fool Danny, at least at first glance. “Do you think they wanted to hurt you, and they thought they had killed you, but then they realised they had the wrong person, so that's why they kicked the door in? Because they saw you were still alive?”

Alex' face crumpled up a bit, as if he was about to cry. It was the most emotion Danny had ever seen on his face, and it made his stomach hurt. Alex bit his lips, inhaled slowly, and shook his head. He squeezed Danny's hand again, and said “I don't think that. I… I'm almost certain that they didn't mean to hurt me at all. Danny… I think they were after _you_." 


	3. Puzzle pieces

Danny looked at him in a detached sort of disbelief, with a forced smile frozen on his face, as if he believed that Alex made a joke, and he couldn't understand why he would do that. When he saw Alex was serious, his face showed a disheartening range of emotions, from a forced smile to confusion, to fear, to the odd smile again. “That… is that a joke?” He knew it wasn't. 

Alex knew this didn't seem to make sense. But it did. Terribly so. 

**Two weeks ago:**

The message was going through Alex's head the whole time while Danny was making dinner. It was encrypted, which was in itself not odd; text messages from MI6 always were. It was a different kind of encryption though, and while it only took him a short time to crack it by hand, it was the content of the message that made him feel wary. It said, in the shorthand typical for MI6, that he needed to disappear for an undisclosed amount of time, and that a 'real disappearance' might be staged later on. 

He had always known that something like this might happen; every once in a while, a threat got so real that someone needed to be gone for some time, but he always assumed that there would be at least an estimation of a timeframe given. He also didn't like the implications of the staging of a 'real disappearance'. How would they do that? Confirm his disappearance to his parents? Call them up, pretending to be the bank he supposedly worked at, and tell them he didn't show up in the last weeks? While he didn't care about his parents, he didn't want to involve them. He especially didn't want Danny to think he was missing, when he probably was just holed up in a hotel in Bristol or something. The threat, whatever it was, could soon turn out to be empty, and he'd be back. At least, he hoped that was how it would go. Wasn't it strange though, that this threat came so shortly after he had discovered-

“Let's go away for the weekend!” Danny's enthusiastic voice tore him from his thoughts. 

Alex smiled. “Sure.” It made him feel bad. He would be away, but not with Danny. And not just for the weekend either. He needed to tell him, but he wasn't allowed to. What if everything went to shit? What if he either was killed, or he needed to disappear for long, for months, maybe even years? There had to be a way to let Danny know he was okay -or at least tell him what happened, if everything wasn't okay. 

He had an idea. It might not work, but he had to try. He turned the music up a bit, not loud enough to raise suspicion, but hopefully enough to drown out their voices to anyone who might be listening. If they were listening at all. “I need to get a new battery for my laptop. I can't go without replacing it.” 

Danny put the food on two plates and walked past Alex, leaning in for a kiss on the way. “I understand,” he said. Of course he didn't. But once Alex disappeared, he would start to. Or so Alex hoped. 

He felt terrible about packing his bags to leave, knowing full well that Danny would turn up at his doorstep and find him gone. But telling Danny was too risky, in many different ways. He printed up his discovery, added “Am MI6. Staged death? Will contact. Love, A” by hand -just in case- and folded the single sheet of paper until it couldn't possible be smaller. Then he found the cryptex he had once bought to take apart and play with, put it back together, and put the note in. He set the codeword, the word one had to form in order to open the device, to 'virgin'. Hopefully Danny would get it. 

If he ever found it. If he ever needed to. 

Alex hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. He packed his suitcase, taking everything one might need for a short vacation in the country, plus two guns and an envelope with cash. Then he put the cryptex into the small open space in his laptop, and left. 

The message kept going through his mind. He was not a field-agent, so there had never been a threat towards him before, and he didn't know exactly what the protocol was like for disappearing, but he assumed there would be some kind of contact between MI6 and him. 

The different encryption was also a source of concern for him. It was the kind of code that at first sight seemed more difficult than others, but was incredibly easy to crack once one had the first word. Alex wasn't sure, but it made sense that this would be the kind of encoding that would have been used years ago, before changing to the more difficult kind they used now. Strange. Why use an old system that was proven to be less safe? And still, he had no doubt the message really had been from someone within MI6. The shorthands and word-use were the same. Exactly the same. 

Before he left, he changed the codes of the camera above his door. If someone had been looking in, they would have to crack his code again. It made him feel safer, though only slightly so; no matter what he did to the camera, MI6 always had access. And he was starting to mistrust the organisation he worked for. 

A few days later, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He had been living in a hotel room for eight days, and there had been no contact from MI6. Either it wasn't safe, or they didn't know where he was. He was worried about Danny, more than he had ever thought he could be. Danny would think he was missing, that he had just vanished without a trace. And there was nothing Alex could do about it. It was heartbreaking, and he found it impossible to distract himself from all of his worries. On the ninth day, he left his hotel room for the first time, and went back to his street. The van he had noticed there so often was gone, which confirmed a terrifying suspicion he hadn't dared articulate to himself. He disabled his camera, knowing it would need five seconds to reboot, and ran inside as fast as he could, closing the door behind himself. 

Alex knew someone had been in his house. Nothing had been taken, nothing had been moved. But someone had been here. He could smell it, a faint hint of cigarette smoke, but it was not because Danny had been here. That was too long ago for there still to be traces of smoke, and it smelled different. Whoever it had been though, was no amateur: either they had disabled his camera, or they had entered the house in another way. But what had they been looking for? He decided in that moment that he needed to buy a new mobile phone and set it up to get alerted when someone opened his door, like he had done with his old mobile. The one he had had to throw away when he went into hiding. 

He had noticed the van in front of his house in the past, of course he had. And he had known that whoever was in it, didn't mind him knowing he was being watched. It was the most cocky kind of powerplay; we're watching you, so what? What are you going to do about it? 

Nothing, of course. He didn't know who it was. 

MI6? KGB? Something else entirely? And the van only was there when Danny was there, which scared Alex the most. He couldn't tell Danny that he was being stalked, not without scaring him beyond measure, or giving away that he himself was a spy. But there was a car following them on their walk when they had just known each other, and that had never happened on the walks he took on his own. If someone was out to kill him, they had had ample opportunity: Alex was often alone. 

So they were after Danny, but why? And they had looked through his stuff in a neat, unnoticeable fashion, despite not minding him knowing he was being watched. Again, why?

_Danny Holt_ , he thought, _who are you really? And who did you piss off?_

**Now:**

In hindsight, it was stupid that he didn't look at the attic, but there had been no time. Also, why would he have gone upstairs? He only went there if he had to get his weapons, which he kept in the closet there. And that was almost never necessary. 

Danny was still looking at him in shock, unaware of Alex's inner turmoil.

Alex reached out to Danny, but changed his mind halfway through. His hand hung awkwardly in the air for a moment. “If they had wanted me dead, I would be dead. They somehow got you my keys, so they wanted you in the house. You said you saw water? Coming from the attic?” 

Danny nodded. His whole body was tense. 

“They knew you'd go up to explore. They knew, or at least hoped, you'd open the suitcase. Your fingerprints would have been on it.” He could only hope that Danny had wiped the prints thoroughly. “You opened the suitcase… what did you see?” 

Danny shut his eyes and shook his head. 

Alex knew it was difficult, but the more he knew, the faster he could solve this puzzle. Because that was what this whole thing was: a puzzle. And Alex had never met a puzzle he couldn't solve. 

“I saw… eyes. A dead body.” Danny's body made a weird movement, like a shrug that changed into a shiver midway. 

“And it looked like me?” If so, that was another very important puzzle piece, one he didn't understand the meaning of. Yet.

Danny opened his eyes, and looked at Alex. His eyes went everywhere, just like the first time they had met, like they always did when he was on edge. Alex hadn't seen him do it in a long time. Danny was usually calm when they were together. “It was your attic, Alex.” he said softly. “What else was I supposed to think?” 

Indeed. What else was he supposed to think? But why did 'they' want Danny to believe that Alex was dead? Surely, they'd find out soon enough that it was not him? Was it just to scare Danny, or to set him up? But why not kill Alex for real? Was it a message to Danny, saying 'it's not him now, but next time it will be'? Did it have to do with the thing Alex had discovered? And if it did, why threaten Danny, and not Alex? He had to broach the subject somehow, but he knew he had to be careful about it. He had to break it to Danny slowly, otherwise he would simply think that Alex was wrong. Or worse, that he was lying. Danny had to arrive at the same conclusion Alex had, and he had to arrive there on his own. 

For now, it was best if Alex found out how much Danny knew. He wasn't sure he could trust him completely anymore, and that made him feel something he had never felt before. It was a kind of loneliness that was different from the way he had felt for all those years before he met Danny. And he needed to know if Danny still trusted him. If he still loved-

The thought that it might be over, was heartbreaking. Alex wasn't good with people, and yet that had never stood between them. Neither had his shyness, his inexperience, or his strangeness. Danny looked past all of that and saw the person he was. 

Tomorrow. He'd try to find out tomorrow. For now, he wanted Danny to be okay, no matter who or what he was, no matter which role he played in all of this. Once again, Alex did something that went against all his instincts: he put what he felt over what he thought. “Will you be able to sleep?” he asked. He would get no sleep himself. Maybe his insomnia was finally good for something; he would be alert while Danny was sleeping. Or if he wasn't sleeping and turned out to be- No. He was just Danny. 

Danny looked exhausted, but wide awake. “I don't know,” he said, and his voice sounded small. 

Alex reached out to him once more, pulling Danny close to his chest. “We'll be fine,” he said, and he hoped it sounded more convincing to Danny than it did to himself. 

Danny nodded, wrapping his arms around Alex's back. They just sat there, embracing each other for a few minutes. Then Alex changed into his pyjama bottoms, and so did Danny. Alex pulled the covers over them, and turned to his side. He hesitated for a moment before putting his arm around Danny.

Danny didn't notice his hesitation, or he didn't mind it, but he moved closer to Alex, and turned to his side as well, so his back was touching Alex's chest. They fit together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. He took Alex's hand in his, like he always did when they were lying like this. At least something hadn't changed. 

Alex kept thinking all of it over, and kept coming back to the same conclusion, which meant one thing: Tomorrow they would have to have the most unpleasant conversation of both their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this was boring, or too obviously needed to set up other events, but from now on the mystery can really begin. :)  
> Also, if the timejumps are confusing, please let me know! There will be more flashbacks to their relationship, pretty much a 'fill in the blanks' of scenes we haven't seen in the series.


	4. Hands

It took Alex a long time to fall asleep, and when he finally did, he woke up often, worrying each time that he had been woken by the sound of someone sneaking into their room. Alex normally found it relaxing when Danny was beside him, but now he kept checking if he was still breathing. He was torn between being afraid he couldn't trust Danny, and fear that he was just being paranoid. He didn't know which one was worse. 

Danny sometimes stirred a bit in his sleep, but whenever he did, Alex put his arm around him tighter, and he calmed down. He always slept best with Alex there. It had been like that from the very first time.

****

**Seven and half months ago:**

“I would like to try again.” Alex said. Their talk had left him in a weird state, somewhere between calmness and nervous anticipation. But his body was relaxed, and he trusted Danny. He had opened up to him so much, told him so much that he'd never told anyone before, that the physical side of opening up didn't seem like such a large step anymore. Rather, it felt like natural progression. 

Danny still had his head on his arms. His breath tickled Alex's arms. “We don't have to,” he said softly. 

He said it so sincerely that Alex knew he would never push him into anything he didn't want. It made him even more certain that this was the right choice. That Danny was the right choice. The right person. “You don't want it?” Alex asked. He wouldn't push Danny either. 

“We can wait,” Danny replied, but this time it was more like he gave Alex one last out, one last chance to change his mind. As if he wanted it, but was afraid to seem pushy. 

“I've waited long enough,” Alex said, and smiled. 

Sitting on the floor in Danny's room, Alex was getting nervous again, but this time it was the good kind, the exciting kind, not the kind that made his body cramp up. He was wrapped up in two towels, and Danny sat down next to him and handed him a glass of liquor. Danny had taken off his shirt, revealing a smooth, hairless chest. Alex tried not to stare too obviously. 

“Come here,” Danny whispered, and softly tugged at the ends of the towel around Alex's shoulders.

His smiled made Alex's heart flutter. He let himself be pulled towards Danny. Closeness wasn't scary with Danny. It didn't make him want to run away. It made him want to stay.

Danny softly tore away the towel, and put his arms around Alex, pressing their chests together. His soft breaths tickles Alex's neck, his hands softly stroked Alex's back in soothing circles. He kissed Alex's neck, then his cheek, then his lips. 

Alex smiled, and returned the kiss. It was slow and careful, like they had all the time in the world. Danny pulled back, looking at Alex with a smile that seemed to say that everything was okay, and Alex believed him. 

Their first time was beautiful. Alex had never felt anything like it, and he knew from the comment Danny had made about doing it drug-free for the first time, that it was special for him as well. While Danny had done this countless times, he had never felt it the way he felt it now. _In a strange way_ , Alex thought, _it is the first time for both of us_. 

The morning after, Alex woke up with Danny's hair tickling his nose. He had his arms around Danny, which surprised him, because it was the way they had fallen asleep. Normally, Alex tossed and turned so much, if he slept at all, that his covers were on the ground, or he was lying in an uncomfortable position. But now, he hadn't moved all night. It was as if Danny was his anchor, and it had made his dreams calmer than they had ever been. 

_So this is what it is like to be in love._

****

**Now**

Alex waited patiently for Danny to wake up. He desperately wanted to go for a run; it would help calm his nerves. But he knew it was too dangerous, and he didn't want Danny to wake up and find him gone. They would have to leave as soon as possible. Where, he didn't know yet. 

He dreaded having this conversation, but he needed to tell Danny. Keeping him in the dark wasn't fair, and Alex needed to be certain about these things he suspected. He knew he was right, there was no way he wasn't… but secretly he hoped that Danny would prove him wrong. He had never wanted his genius to betray him as much as he wanted it now. 

****

Danny had never seen Alex sleep. He didn't know if the movements he himself made when waking up always woke Alex, or if Alex simply slept so little. He knew Alex suffered from insomnia, but wasn't sure to what extent. Alex didn't like talking about those things. Danny opened his eyes and stared at the wall in front of him for a moment, at the old-fashioned wallpaper and the unfamiliar shadows, then he turned around. 

Alex was looking at him with a tentative smile. “Morning,” he said softly.

“Mmmh. Morning,” Danny mumbled, and put his arms around Alex, pressing their bodies together again. He liked the warmth, the security, the feeling of being inseparable. 

Alex stroked his hair softly. “We should go down for breakfast, and then check out.” 

Oh yes. They were on the run. Danny wished Alex had let him pretend, for just a moment longer, that they were simply on holiday. That this was their weekend away, not some attempt to flee from… from whom? They didn't even know. He sighed, and pulled back. Then he sat up, and took the blanket with him, wrapping it around himself. He was always cold, while Alex never was. Just another sign they were perfect for each other, wasn't it? Polar opposites. 

Though he was starting to think that Alex didn't agree.

Alex was still lying on his side, his bare chest moved slowly with his even breaths. He looked calm, but worried. 

Danny didn't like that at all. “What's wrong?” he asked, and hated how worried he sounded. Why could he not be more like Alex? Calm, collected. Almost stoic. 

Alex sat up. “There is something we need to talk about, but it won't be a pleasant conversation.” How could he say those words so matter of factly? 

“Okay,” Danny said. What could it possibly be about? Alex could not have discovered something between the moment Danny fell asleep and woke up. Or maybe he had. Maybe he had left in the night… no he wouldn't. Danny corrected himself: Alex the banker wouldn't, Alex the spy however… 

“Tell me again about that night?” Alex asked. The words sounded flat. 

It made Danny worry more, and he didn't even know what it was about. 

****

“What night?” Danny asked, in what seemed genuine confusion. 

Alex carefully put his hand into the blanket around Danny, the armour he had built around himself, and took his hand. He looked him in the eyes, and tried to put as much sympathy as possibly in that look, but he couldn't keep the urgency out of his voice. “The worst night.” 

Realisation dawned on Danny. He looked shocked and pulled back his hand, into the blanket. “Why?” he asked defensively, and Alex could see him hold onto the blanket tightly, as if he was afraid Alex would rip it away, expose him, make him more vulnerable than he already was. 

It was a subconscious attempt to protect himself, and it made Alex feel a kind of hurt he had never felt before. He couldn't let that stop him though. He needed to know. “Because I need to know exactly what happened. Do you remember placing the ad?” 

For a moment, it seemed as if Danny would refuse to dignify that with an answer. But then, he frowned, and seemed to disappear into his own mind. Alex watched with growing sense of dread as Danny chewed his lips. He hesitated for a very long time. “No,” he said eventually, in a tone that said it didn't matter anyway. “I was really fucked up. I told you!” 

“Where had you been before you placed the ad?” Alex was almost certain that Danny hadn't done it himself, but there were other matters to discuss first. 

“I was out.” 

“Where?” 

“I don't know!” Danny said angrily. “I was just drinking in some club!” 

“Could someone have spiked your drink?” He knew what that question would sound like to Danny but he had to ask. More importantly, Danny needed to ask himself that question. His answer would determine the entire course of this conversation. 

Danny looked angry and hurt, he shut his eyes and shook his head. His voice sounded thick, like there was a lump in his throat. “Well, it's very obvious you think I brought this on myself, but-” 

Alex touched Danny's arm softly through the fabric, and pulled back his hand quickly when Danny flinched. “I'm sorry, I-” he carefully pushed his hand into the blanket again, put it gently around Danny's wrist and pulled his hand out of the opening of the blanket, so he could hold his hand. 

Danny didn't pull back, but kept his eyes closed. 

Alex knew he did it to keep from crying. “I do not think you brought this on yourself. Danny? Please look at me.” He really didn't think that. He would never think that Danny deserved any of the things that had happened to him. No, they hadn't _happened_ \- they were _done_ to him. 

Danny opened his eyes, which were indeed filled with tears. He blinked rapidly. Then he nodded curtly and closed his eyes again. He believed him. Or at least he pretended to. 

“What makes you think I believe that? That it was your own fault?” Alex asked softly. Did Danny think so badly of him? Did the events of the last day change Danny's view of him so much that he thought that Alex had lied about everything? That Alex thought Danny was to blame for the worst night of his life? 

Danny inhaled shakily. “It's what everyone would think, isn't it? And you asked if someone… if I would be stupid enough to let someone put something… I know I'm not as careful as you, but I keep an eye on my drinks.” 

Alex squeezed his hand softly. “Do you remember doing drugs that night?” 

Danny shook his head. 

Alex clenched his jaw. He didn't like how this was shaping up exactly the way he had feared. “If I bought you a drink in a club… not when we first met, but after we had known each other for, say, three months. Would you go with me to the bar? Would you examine your drink before you drank it?” 

Danny opened his eyes. He looked confused. “No. We're together! You wouldn't-” 

“So it is possible that someone bought you a drink, put something in it, and you don't remember it? If you trusted that person?” 

“In theory...” Danny said, hesitatingly. “But despite what you might think, I don't trust people immediately.” 

Alex nodded, and shifted a bit closer. He took Danny's other hand in his as well. He wasn't sure if he did it to support Danny, or himself. 

Danny looked at their hands, and then up at Alex. His face fell. “What are you saying?” he whispered. 

Alex took a deep breath, and made sure to look Danny in the eyes as he said it. “I'm saying that there is one person on this earth who could have drugged you, could have placed the ad with your address, and who knew you'd be running to him once it was all over.” 

Danny gasped. He shook his head, but Alex saw doubt in his eyes. “You can't mean that,” Danny said weakly. “What are you saying?” 

He knew exactly what Alec was saying, and he knew it made sense, but he didn't want to believe it, because that possibility was so incredibly heartbreaking. 

“I'm so sorry, Danny.” Alex said and he meant it. He gripped Danny's hands tighter, showing him he was there, no matter what. “But I think it was Scottie.” 

****

**Three weeks ago:**

Alex immediately disliked Scottie, and he knew it was entirely mutual, right from the very first second. He hated how the first sentence out of Scottie's mouth was designed to put Danny down, saying something about his 'self-loathing' before he made it about himself, saying this was where they'd met. The message was clear. _“I had him first”_. This continued for a while, and then the thinly veiled insult followed: “Danny has a terrible track record when it comes to picking the wrong men.” 

Alex almost smiled. Danny chose to hang out with this possessive, degrading piece of shit, so apparently Scottie was right about that part at least. And then the threat had come out of his mouth, predictable, but not less amusing: “Don't break his heart.” 

Alex knew Scottie hoped for exactly that; that Alex would break Danny's heart to have him come running back to Scottie. But he wouldn't do that. “I could never hurt Danny,” he said, meaning every word. He looked at Danny, who followed their rather one-sided conversation with a kind of anxious weariness he hadn't seen before. “Because he is the only friend I have.” 

Scottie pretended to be pleased with that answer, and “pleased for the both of them”. Of course he wasn't. Alex might not be the best at knowing what other people thought, but Scottie wore his hatred of Alex and his adoration of Danny both on his sleeve, and only someone who knew him as well as Danny did would be able to ignore it.

Did Danny do that deliberately? Or was there a point where you knew a person for so long, and you saw their emotions so often, that they became meaningless? If such a point existed, Alex had certainly not reached it with Danny, because he saw how uncomfortable he felt. Alex gently steered the conversation back to the music, allowing Danny to take the wheel and blab on about that, while Scottie and Alex exchanged smiles that felt like insults at best and threats at worst. 

“Had you two met before?” Danny asked as soon as they were outside, rolling a cigarette. Alex hated that he couldn't determine exactly what he meant by that. 

“No.” he said, which was the truth. Still, he had a feeling they would meet again. 

That evening, when Alex was back home, he started to look into this _Scottie_ , and with each thing he discovered, the maze around this man got bigger and more complicated, until even Alex wasn't sure there was a way out. 

****

**Now**

Danny shook his head. Why would Alex say something like that? Why would he do that to him? But why did Danny not find the words to say that it was absurd? Why did he not simply say that Alex was wrong? 

_Alex is never wrong_ , a voice in his mind said.

But he had to be. This time, he simply had to be wrong. Even geniuses could make mistakes. 

_Geniuses, yes. Not Alex._

“What makes you think...” Danny stopped himself. Alex had already explained what made him think that. The simple fact that Danny didn't remember anything about the start of that night, and that there was indeed just one person in his life who could… but why would Scottie do that? 

_Because he wants you._

He knew that the feelings Scottie had for him exceeded those of a father figure. But -because of that- Scottie wouldn't want him to get hurt. Right? 

_And Alex wouldn't lie to you. Only one of those things can be true._

But Alex HAD lied to him. More than once. His name, his job… Danny couldn't think of anything else. And he had been startlingly honest about other things: his inexperience, his loneliness… Was that not more important?

Suddenly, he remembered that odd moment two weeks ago, when he had gone to Scottie's place, asking for help with Alex's disappearance, and how dismissive Scottie had been. And how Danny himself had reacted to that. _“Is this what you want?”_ The words echoed in his mind now, sounding more and more like an accusation towards himself. Did he bring this upon himself? This entire mess? Was he responsible for the dead person in the suitcase?

Danny didn't know what to think, but he did know that he couldn't just dismiss this possibility. It hurt, but it was true: Scottie could have done this. But why would he? And what was the link to all of this?  
Alex looked sorry, so terribly sorry. He wouldn't lie about this. But there was no proof, was there? He just had to believe him – or not believe him. 

“Danny, I think that Scottie did it, so he would forever have something against you. You might never have thought of it as such, but he was the only person who knew about that night, until you told me. And he brought you to the hospital, which is a favour you can never repay him. He thinks he owns you. And one day, he would want something in return for everything he's done for you.” Alex sounded flat, detached, but it was to distance himself from what he was saying, not to distance himself from Danny. There was softness in his voice as well, an apology, but not pity. Danny didn't think he would be able to deal with Alex pitying him. 

“Even if… even if that's true… Why would Scottie want me to find your body?” 

“Because you would be the prime suspect.” 

“He wanted me to go down for murder?” Danny asked. It sounded absolutely mental.

Alex shook his head. “I don't think he wanted that. I think he would have gotten you a solicitor, and he would have gotten you out. He has connections, as I'm sure you know.” 

Yes, Scottie mentioned them sometimes, it gave him an air of importance and impenetrableness. 

“He would have gotten you out, you would owe him even more, and I would be believed to be dead, at least at first. And once they'd find out it's not me in the suitcase, I would become their prime suspect, especially since no one had seen me in the weeks leading up to that person's death.” 

Danny felt himself go pale. “Fuck! Alex!” He clenched Alex's hand so hard he was sure it hurt, but Alex didn't flinch. He just looked worried. “The other things… the… everything in the room!” 

“What was in the room?” Alex asked. 

Danny couldn't believe he hadn't told him yet. “There were… sex-toys and ropes, and… masks.” 

Alex frowned, then a little smile spread on his face. It was gone within a moment. “That seems out of character,” he said. 

“Yeah, that's what I thought, but...” it made sense now, terrible, horrible sense. “Everything in that room was designed to make me feel as though I didn't know you! The police would question me, I would say all these things about you, how you were shy, and sweet and… and they would point at the evidence and say I had no idea who you were! That you lead a double life!” 

Alex looked at him in amazement. His eyes started gleaming with pure adoration. “Danny, you are brilliant! That's it! Eventually, you would start to feel like everything you knew about me was wrong, you'd testify against me, and if the police ever caught me I'd be imprisoned for murder. I'd be out of the way.” 

Out of Scottie's way. If that was true. But then… “Why not murder you? You're alone most of the time.” Only when he'd said the words, he realised how hurtful they were. He squeezed Alex's hand reflexively. “Shit, I didn't mean-” 

Alex shook his head again. “It's okay. The thought crossed my mind as well. I think he wanted me to disappear, but knew that killing me would be too risky.” He looked at their intertwined hands for a moment, then he looked up again, and hesitated before he spoke. “There are… some things I have discovered. About Scottie. But I need something confirmed first.” 

Danny nodded. “Okay?” 

“Remember when you asked whether I had done a background check on you?” 

Danny almost smiled. “Oh God. That was sort of a joke. But you did?”

Alex nodded earnestly. “I did. And I found out you were once tested for MI6.” 

Danny laughed, but stopped immediately when he saw it wasn't a joke. “What?! Me?!” Alex was wrong. Danny of all people… MI6? The thought was too absurd. But Alex was absolutely serious. “I wasn't. I'm sorry Alex. But I wasn't.” 

“Did you not do an exam with Mr Frosher in year one of your studies?” 

“Yes.” Some general knowledge test that wasn't even graded. Most people didn't even bother completing it. Danny hadn't known it wasn't a requirement, he had been pretty out of this world when the rules were explained to the class, but he had kept it together well enough to make the test. But there was no way he passed it. No bloody way. 

“That was that test. It isn't about knowledge at all, it's about how you handle things. There were several unsolvable problems, and those who panic don't make it. There are logic tests, there are questions designed to find out your political and ethical views without ever using those words. They would find out what you think about terrorism, whether you have prejudices, what your opinion about the Royal family is… everything, Danny. They would find out everything. And those who make it through that test, are called in for an interview.” 

“But I wasn't,” Danny said.

“You were!” Alex said. There was a fire behind his eyes. “You had a conversation with Mr Frosher, a few weeks after that exam. Do you remember?” 

Barely. It hadn't been a good time for him at all. “It was to discuss how I was failing everything.” Not some recruitment interview. Quite the contrary. He didn't remember much, but he did know that Mr Frosher had said it was probably for the best if he quit university until he had his life back on track.

“Yes. And he would have suggested you could get a job with someone he knew, and that someone would have been MI6. But, and I take this directly from your record, he realised that you would be no good, not in the state you were in. A couple of weeks later, you dropped out, but MI6 kept tabs on you. They didn't want you to fall into the hands of another organisation.” 

“You do realise that none of that makes any sense, right?” Danny was getting angry now. Who did Alex think he was? Sure, compared to Alex he was an uneducated lowlife, but he didn't like being made a fool. “I didn't pass that test. If that's even real.” 

“When did you meet Scottie?” Alex sounded angry now too, though he hid it behind a wall of calmness. Danny often wondered what kind of storms raged on inside of Alex's head. 

“I told you!” 

“Before or after you dropped out?” 

The answer was obvious, wasn't it? “After.” 

“And you had been in that bar before, and they would know you'd go there eventually, and they put someone in there who you would connect to! Scottie! He has kept an eye on you for years, and you were in his control completely, and then I came along! And you didn't tell him about me. But he knew. There was a van following us. Danny. It was there often. It was him. And he knew I was MI6, he would know, because he had access to everything that has to do with you, every file, everything! So when we met, he already knew exactly who I was, and he didn't like me one bit. And maybe he realised I would look into him. That's why he hatched a plan, to make me disappear. And I'm not sure if he thought he would get away with that, but I do know I was not his main target: it was you. Scottie has connections, and while he might not have an important job at MI6 anymore, he is tasked with one thing: keep our recruits out of the hands of the KGB, CIA, or any other foreign organisation you can think of. As long as he does his job, no one is going to check on him! He could do whatever he wanted!” Alex paused, and looked at their hands again, as if he needed to gather courage to say the next things. 

He looked Danny in the eyes again, and Danny knew that the next words to leave his mouth would be the absolute truth. 

“I have discovered, and I'm really sorry about this, Danny, but… The man in the trunk, whoever it was, was not Scottie's first victim.” 

Danny opened his mouth as if his body had not realised yet what his mind knew, that all of this was true. And even if Alex was wrong, he was convinced he was right. And he wasn't done talking yet.

Alex mouth twitched nervously, and his eyes showed nothing but sincerity. “I know who his next victim would be. It would be you.”


	5. Lies

_It would be you._

It was a lie of course. But Danny seemed to believe it.

Good.

 _At least one thing is going to plan_ , Alex thought.

****

They were in the car again. Neither on of them had said a word to each other after Alex had said that Danny would be next. What was there to say? Danny felt like all emotion had been drained from his body, like blood from a wound. Scottie wanted to ruin his life. Over a crush? Because he was jealous of Alex?

They had gone down for breakfast, avoiding looking at each other. The owner of the B&B had noticed when she came into the breakfast room to refill the orange juice, and had given Danny an encouraging smile. _She thinks we had a little domestic_ , he thought. _If only it were so simple._

Alex had bought a map at the counter, without explaining why. Now, in the car, he was wearing his hiking boots. Fucking unbelievable. Even when on the run, he brought his bloody exercise equipment. Danny had no idea where they were driving to, and he didn't care. He couldn't think of a reason why Alex would lie to him. Yes, one reason: that Alex had murdered the man in the suitcase. But why would he have come back to the scene of the crime? And why would he have taken Danny with him? Danny knew that Alex meant everything he said, but it was just too much. It was too horrible. Silence had never grated on him the way it did now. He wondered if Alex felt it too.

****

**Seven months ago:**

Alex wondered if Danny minded his silence. He was not used to talking during his walks, that was all. He always went alone. Until now. There was something incredibly foreign about walking here with Danny. Danny's shoes were not made for hiking at all, they'd be soaked by the end of it, but he said he didn't mind. While walking usually cleared his head, Alex couldn't relax, not even when Danny made a joke about how grown up Alex was, drinking from a thermos. And then, unexpectedly Danny got serious. 

Danny had the heart and mind of a poet. The way he explained to Alex how he felt when Alex asked him if he was okay… it was not just facts, it was him baring his soul. Alex could never find the words, not in this way. And even if he could, he wasn't sure if he could ever say them. 

“What if not everything is okay?” he asked. What if there was a car following them for way too long? What if there was a van outside his apartment? What if he thought they were being watched right now? What if he doubted everything, all the time? 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Danny asked.

Was that weird? Was he prying? Or was he just concerned? “No,” Alex said. There were many things he wanted to tell him. But nothing he could. 

****

**Now:**

The first words out of Danny's mouth, after two hours of silence, were “Why are we stopping?”.

Alex had expected him to ask more about Scottie, but in a way he was just relieved that Danny was talking again. He would have to explain it in more detail soon, to take away any doubts Danny might have. He had all the lies he would need to tell lined up in his mind. “So we can dump the car.” 

“And then what?” 

Alex knew Danny was going to ask it eventually. Maybe he'd hoped it would take a while longer. Maybe he'd hoped that their silence would be enough to talk himself out of this plan. It wasn't even much of a plan, just an idea. A hunch. Alex didn't like having to trust his gut feeling. It was bound to go wrong. Because the answer was this: then they'd have to find out how to expose Scottie. Without getting themselves killed. But he couldn't say that. Not if he was going to try to pull off the worst idea he'd ever had. The only idea he had. And Danny had given him the most important clue. “Then we walk.” he said instead. 

Alex pulled over close to the woods. If they left the car here, it would take days before someone would notice that the car had been abandoned for a long time, and not just for a few hours by some people going for a hike. If MI6 had found out they were in Scotland, this would throw them off, at least a little. And every hour they had, was valuable. 

“You can wear my shoes,” Alex offered, and opened the trunk. He was wearing his hiking boots, but Danny was wearing flimsy Vans. His feet would be soaked within minutes in these. Danny didn't respond, so Alex simply took his other pair of shoes out of the trunk; the black, leather shoes he usually wore under his suits. They were a lot better than the ones Danny was wearing. He held them out, and after looking at them for a few seconds, Danny took them. “There is a car rental place in the next city over. If we walk through here, we'll be there in two hours and twenty-three minutes.” 

Danny sighed when Alex mentioned the exact number. It made Alex uncomfortable. Danny knew he'd have calculated it. It wasn't unexpected, or strange that Alex would have done so. But it annoyed Danny. Perhaps it had always annoyed him. Alex hated how this little bit of doubt crept into his mind, and altered the way he viewed things, not just now, but things that had happened in the past. Like two months into their relationship, when they had been in a supermarket together, and Danny was looking at two different sizes of canned vegetables. “The recipe says 600 grams...” he'd said, looking at Alex for a moment. “I'm really bad at maths.”  
Alex had realised that he was trying to determine which was the cheaper option: two of the bigger size, or three of the smaller size, and said “If you buy three of these, you have the exact amount you need for 1.59, which amounts to 26,5 pence per 100 grams. But if you buy two of these, the total price is higher, since it's 1,92, but there is 200 grams left. So if you don't throw away the rest, it's 24 pence per 100 grams. If you DO throw the rest away this option is more expensive, since it would be 32 pence per 100 grams.” 

Danny had looked at him in amazement. 

Alex had cleared his throat. “So if you're going to use the rest some other time you should buy two cans of 400 grams each.” 

“That was amazing,” Danny had said, and at the time it just made Alex blush a bit and smile, but now he wondered if it had perhaps been sarcastic. 

“We are going to walk through the forest for two and a half hours?” Danny said. “If we don't get lost. Or murdered by a… bear.” 

“Yes.” Alex did not show his relief. Danny only meant it was a long walk, he wasn't ridiculing the preciseness at all. But the little hesitation before saying “bear” worried Alex. It wasn't a joke, it was Danny trying to turn it into a casual comment, instead of what he really meant; that they might not make it out of these woods alive. 

While Danny was changing his shoes, Alex opened his suitcase and took out a backpack, which he filled with some spare clothes. The last things he put into the backpack were Danny's shoes. He locked the car and put the keys in his pocket, next to the passports and the money. 

_A double life._ That's what Danny had called it. Of course. It was brilliant. 

Scottie wanted Alex gone, but even he wasn't arrogant enough to think he'd be able to pull it off. So he did the next best thing: destroy Alex's life. With a dead body in his attic, in his suitcase, there was no way he wouldn't get convicted, even if they would find no prints or DNA of his on the body. Alex would have been locked up for life. Scottie would comfort Danny, tell him he had suspected it all along. Danny would be heartbroken. Just like Scottie had wanted from the start. Scottie didn't want Danny dead, why would he? But Alex knew that Scottie had sent the keys to Danny. There was no one else who could have done that. So something had changed in the last two weeks, something that made Scottie believe that simply getting rid of Alex wasn't enough. He had to protect Danny from something horrible as well. Only then would Danny come running to him. Only then could Scottie use his influence to get Danny off the murder charge he would surely face, and Danny would be indebted to him once again. 

But what had changed? “Did you see Scottie this last week?” Alex asked.

Danny kept looking at the dirt road they were walking on. He nodded.

“What did you tell him?” 

“That you were gone.” 

“Nothing else?” 

Danny ran his hand through his hair. “I said that we were supposed to go away for the weekend. I told him I told you about that night. He asked how you responded. I told him you…” Danny shook his head softly. “I told him you were amazing about it. He asked if you had said anything out of the ordinary.” 

“And what did you answer?” 

“That you agreed to go away for the weekend. That you only needed to go buy a battery first.” 

Right. Things just got more complicated. Had Scottie found the laptop? And the cryptex? Maybe he had already managed to crack it. Maybe he knew everything Alex had discovered. Not just the things he had written on the note, the thing he had written down about Scottie. But also the rest. It had seemed smart, to put the note in with the USB with the back-up of his algorithm. Now he couldn't believe he had been so stupid. If Scottie knew about the battery, maybe he would have realised the importance of that statement, and he would take the cryptex home. How long would it take him to figure out the word? And then he'd see the USB and would want to find out what was on it. Alex had password protected his discovery, of course. But it was protected in such a way that Danny would be able to find out. The security question was simple for Danny, but perhaps even for Scottie. That depended on what Danny had told him about their talks. The question was _Even though the odds are small – you and me._ The answer was _soulmates_. 

That was the thing that had changed between Scottie and Danny: Scottie thought Alex would have resented Danny for his past, and when he heard that his response had been 'amazing', he realised he needed to bring out the big guns. Well, he could have them. Danny was, as odd as that sounded, safest with Scottie. If Scottie thought Danny was going back to him, if he thought Danny was turning his back on Alex, then Scottie would move heaven and earth to keep him safe. And that would give Alex time. Time to figure out how to solve this situation.

Alex saw Danny watching him from the corner of his eyes. Still, he was surprised when Danny reached out and took his hand. Alex smiled tentatively. “I'm sorry,” he said. There was a lot of weight behind these two words. He wasn't just apologising for his silence, but for the entire situation, for lying about his job, for everything.

“It's alright,” Danny said, and Alex could tell that he meant it. “This whole situation is messed up but… but we'll be fine.” 

Alex nodded. He didn't believe it. Not yet. 

“So, we've dumped the car. We rent another car… and then?” 

Alex didn't respond. Danny squeezed his hand. “Alex?” 

“Sorry,” Alex said. “What did you say?” He had heard it the first time, but needed to concentrate on pulling this off. Lying didn't come natural to him. He needed to work hard to seem truthful. And in this situation, he could not afford that Danny wouldn't believe him. Everything would go to shit if he didn't. 

“I asked what the next step is.” Danny said.

“Finding out who's in the suitcase.” Alex said. It wasn't even a complete lie. He did need to find out who that person was. But there were steps in between, the first of which was this: Sell Danny out to the police.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise things will make sense eventually. :)  
> Sorry this update took so long, I had incredibly much to do for uni.


	6. The two of us on the run

They had been walking in near silence for an hour, when Danny said “Let's sit down for a moment, yeah?”

Alex would much rather continue walking, but he nodded nonetheless. They went off the path a bit, and sat down on a fallen tree. 

Danny picked up a fallen leaf and started ripping it up into small pieces, which he let fall to the ground, like confetti. “What exactly are we going to do once we have the other car?”

Alex stared at the ground in front if him. He didn't immediately answer. “We need to go somewhere where we are safe. And then I need a laptop. I will hack into the database of the police, so we can find out who the man in the suitcase was. Once we know that, we need to establish that there was a connection between Scottie and that man, while there is nothing that ties you or me to him, other than the place where his body was found.” 

Apparently, Danny was not surprised to learn that Alex was pretty confident he could hack the police. “And then we give that information to the police?” he asked. 

Alex nodded.

“But… they will ask why we ran!” 

Of course they would. And they'd lock Danny up the moment they knew he was in London. They would tell him his real name was Alistair, they would tell him his parents were still alive. Danny's world would fall apart. Scottie would get him out of prison, he would pin everything on Alex, and Danny would be safe. “They won't know that.” Alex said. “That was MI6. Either Mi6 has already handed it over to the police, or they will have to give some sort of explanation once this information reaches the police. Scottie will not be able to push the investigation towards you too much, or MI6 will look into what kind of relationship the two of you have. And how long would it take for them to notice that Scottie has done this before?” 

Danny looked uncomfortable. 

Alex understood; Danny had trusted Scottie. He had told him countless secrets. He had slept over at his house. It made sense that Alex saying these things like they were totally obvious sent a shiver down his spine. “We really should be going,” Alex said. They needed to go to London, the sooner the better. Alex needed his cryptex back, before Scottie would find out what it was. Before Scottie would either do everything he could to destroy Alex's research or -worse- sell it to the wrong people. 

****

He made it sound so simple. Danny knew that there were many things Alex wasn't telling him; the details of the plan. The plan of how to take down Scottie. No matter how, they would solve this, put it behind them, and live a happy life. Just the two of them. Forever. 

Danny always liked walking with Alex. Not because he liked being outside that much, but because he knew Alex enjoyed it. Alex always pointed out interesting things along the way; some rare plant, or the sound of some bird Danny could never remember the name of. Once, Alex had picked up a rock, and Danny had expected him to say that it was some special kind of mineral, or that there was interesting moss growing on it or something like that. Instead, Alex had smiled, that little, careful smile of his, and had simply said “It's shaped like a heart,” and had given it to Danny. Danny couldn't stop smiling for the rest of their walk. Now, though, walking with Alex wasn't relaxed. Danny was scared of the days to come, and while Alex didn't seem as worried as he had the day before, he seemed rushed. 

When they reached the car rental place, Alex told Danny to stay out of reach of the camera's, and went inside alone. He rented a little, blue Peugeot, and they were off again. 

A few hours later, Alex bought two mobile phones in two different stores, and Danny drove while Alex set them up. “I have put my new number in your phone. If we get separated, call me.” There was an urgency to Alex's voice. “And if the police get to you, save yourself first. Okay? Don't worry about me. Save yourself. Say whatever they want to hear if it gets you out.” 

But they wouldn't get separated, would they? They would be in this together, until the very end. 

Alex leaned forward a bit in his seat, looking at Danny, demanding a confirmation. 

“Okay,” Danny mumbled. “I'll 'save myself first'.” 

“Good,” Alex said, and leaned back. 

An hour later, when Alex was behind the wheel again and it was starting to get dark, they stopped in a small village. “Are we still in Scotland?” Danny asked, even though he was fairly certain they were. 

“Yes. In Thornhill. We'll stay here one night, and tomorrow we start figuring everything out.” Alex climbed out of the car, and took his backpack from the backseat. “Let's find a restaurant.” 

Danny laughed softly. When Alex looked confused, he explained. “It's just that… we are on the run, yeah? And instead of grabbing some fastfood somewhere, you suggest we eat in a restaurant.” 

Alex grinned. “Fastfood places are parts of chains, and chains demand that there are camera's. A restaurant in a town with 1500 people is unlikely to have camera's. And if they do, I don't think MI6 will search for us here.” 

“And it is more romantic.” Danny said cheerfully.

Alex didn't respond. He looked around, and said “Let's go that way.” 

Danny sighed, and followed him.

The restaurant was very small, and surprisingly crowded. The surrounding villages were probably even smaller. But the menu looked good, and for some time, Danny could pretend that they were simply on a date. A question kept pushing into his mind, and while he didn't want to ruin the mood -or _his_ mood, Alex was unreadable- he had to ask. “How did we fall in love? We are nothing alike.” 

Alex was quiet for a moment. There was hurt in his eyes. “Do you regret it?” 

“No. I'm trying to make sense of this, the same as you.” He suppressed his reflex of reaching out for Alex's hand. 

Alex exhaled slowly and shook his head. “Sorry. I… we… I think it is _because_ we are polar opposites. I have…” he hesitated, and Danny knew something personal would follow, “never liked myself very much. Maybe that's why I… immediately liked you, even though I didn't understand you.” 

He said 'liked' not 'loved' and that shouldn't hurt so much, but it did. 

“Did you? Immediately like me?” He wasn't sure why he asked. Maybe a small part of him wasn't sure about anything anymore. 

Alex nodded, looking him in the eyes earnestly. “Yes. And I couldn't figure out why, but I was so incredibly relieved when we met again. And also scared, because I didn't want to… to fall in love. And then I did.” He averted his gaze, and straightened the cutlery in front of him. 

Danny didn't care that he wore his relief openly on his face. “I love you,” he whispered.

Alex didn't smile. He looked serious when he said it, as if it was an important statement, and in a way it was. “I love you too.” 

 

They ended up in a bed and breakfast a few towns over. Danny contemplated telling Alex that he had had a falling out with Scottie, but decided against it. What good was it? It didn't matter now. He'd never have to see Scottie again. Because Alex had a plan. Of course he had. He was Alex. Danny tried not to worry about all the creeping doubts he had. Alex loved him, that was al that mattered. Again, he told himself that they would figure this all out. It would be over soon. 

Alex would keep him safe.

****

“Alex? Alex, wake up,” Danny whispered, shaking Alex softly by the shoulder. 

Alex startled, and was fully awake within a second. Danny was standing next to the bed, his hair was ruffled as if he'd just woken up himself. “What's wrong?” Alex hissed. Had Danny heard a noise? The door was still closed, but was there someone in their room? Had MI6 found them? 

“Nothing,” Danny chuckled. “But look at the stars!” He took Alex's hand and started pulling him up. 

Alex heaved a sigh of relief and annoyance, and got up. Danny had opened the curtain a bit. From the window, they had a perfect view of the night sky. 

“Look!” Danny whispered. “It's beautiful!” 

Alex had to admit he was right. From here, the view was spectacular. The night sky never looked like this from London. He took a step back, so he stood behind Danny, and put his arms around Danny's chest, resting his chin on Danny's shoulder. “It is,” he said softly. 

Danny leaned back a bit, the warmth of his skin was a welcome contrast with the coolness of their room. Danny turned his head a bit and kissed the corner of Alex's mouth. “This is kinda romantic,” he mumbled. “the two of us on the run.” 

Alex smiled. Danny always saw the good in a situation, didn't he? He was glad he did. And, again, he had to admit Danny was right.  
It made what he was about to do much worse, but he was sure it needed to happen; he had to keep Danny safe from harm, even if that meant breaking his heart.  
****

“Uuuurrghhh!” 

Alex looked down at Danny amusedly. Danny was not a morning person. Alex leaned down and kissed Danny's forehead. 

Danny kept his eyes closed, but moved his arms up to try to pull Alex down onto the bed. 

Alex caught his hands, and kissed both of them. He wasn't sure if he really was cheerful, or was only pretending to be. “I'm sorry, but we should go.” 

Danny opened his eyes and pouted. Then he yawned loudly and got up. “Back to London,” he mumbled sleepily. 

“Exactly,” Alex said. Only he wouldn't arrive there. Danny would. In a police car. 

If everything would go according to plan. 

****

“Can we stop at the next petrol station? I really need to use the loo.” Danny said, looking at the sign at the exit with relief. They'd been driving for some time now, and his full bladder was starting to get uncomfortable. 

“Of course,” Alex said. Then he drove straight past it.

“There was one right there!” Danny said, looking over his shoulder in despair, as if he could magically pick the building up with his mind and place it in front of them again.  
“Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't see it!” Alex looked worried and a bit guilty. 

Danny couldn't stand Alex looking like that. He gave him that look whenever he messed up by being too blunt, when he realised his perception of what he was saying was different from how Danny took it. It was the look that reminded Danny that in some ways he was a mystery to Alex. It made him feel alienated from him. “It's okay,” he said, and gave Alex a reassuring smile. It was his own fault. He should have said it earlier, not when they were practically next to it. 

He'd survive.

Almost half an hour later, Alex finally stopped at a petrol station right at the edge of London.

“I'll be right back!” Danny said, got out of the car, and started running to the toilets. 

He passed a stand with today's newspapers, but in his hurry he didn't pay them any mind. He didn't see the headlines. He didn't see which terrible future there was in store for him. 

****

When he came out of the toilets, Alex was gone. Danny looked around, expecting to see that Alex had just moved the car somewhere else, but couldn't find it. Alex was not filling up the tank, or buying food. He was gone. 

Danny started to panic. Two men in suits looked at him, and he quickly turned around and walked back over the parking lot, looking for Alex in vain. Maybe he had seen the man in suits too. Maybe he had recognised them as being MI6-agents. Danny looked over his shoulder. The men were walking to a car. To go after Alex? No, they were too calm. Just businessmen. Or that was what they wanted him to believe. Perhaps they would drive past him in a moment and pull him into the car. Or run him over. 

He sat down on a dirty patch of grass, and took out the mobile phone Alex had bought yesterday. There was only one number in it, Alex's number, and he called it. “Come on…” he whispered, daring to glance over at the men in suits. They were in the car now, but didn't drive off.  
Alex didn't answer. 

“Fuck...” Where the hell was Alex? Had they taken him? Was he in that car? But where was his own car? And Alex wouldn't go down without a fight. Someone would have seen. 

The men in the car finally drove away. It lifted a tiny part of the weight off Danny's shoulders. He called Alex again. Still no answer. _He's left you behind_. Alex wouldn't do that. 

Would he?

There had to be a reason. Maybe he had spotted someone dangerous and had driven off so they would tail him instead of taking Danny. _Save yourself first_. That was what he had said yesterday. That Danny should save himself. He had taken that to mean that Alex would save Danny first, too. But maybe he had meant that the both of them should think of themselves first. That they were on their own. 

Danny started biting the fingernail of his thumb, while trying to call Alex once more.

Still no answer. His eyes started tearing up. 

Maybe Alex would come back. He had to come back. Danny tried to breathe evenly, but couldn't keep his breaths from becoming ragged, somehow shallow and too deep all at once. Alex had fucking left him behind. Danny closed his eyes. This was a bad dream. A stupid, bad fucking dream. He would wake up with Alex's arms around him. All would be well. 

If only he could make himself believe that. 

****

Alex had seen the papers that morning, when they walked from the bed and breakfast to where they had parked the car. The headline had been “The dead man in the suitcase”. Even though he had had no chance to read further without making Danny notice, he was sure it was about him. It was not unexpected. At least it didn't say 'spy'. It was a good sign. Perhaps it meant that MI6 was pretending they were not involved in any way. Or they already knew it was not him. He didn't know what to think of that option. They would believe he was the murderer. And if MI6 was still after them, that decreased his odds of having the time to find evidence on Scottie. In a way, it was good news that it was in the papers. It made the next step easier. 

While driving towards London, they barely spoke, both lost in their own thought. When Danny asked if they could stop at the nearest petrol station, Alex purposely 'didn't see it'. The closer they were to London the better. 

Alex felt a weird tightness in his chest as he watched Danny open the door and disappear. It was now or never. He inhaled slowly to calm his nerves, and drove off. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he made sure that Danny didn't come back in time to see him leave. It felt like he was betraying him, even though he knew it was for the best. It was the only way to make sure nothing would happen to Danny. He took out his mobile and called the police. He tried to change his voice as best he could, and said “I read about the suitcase-murder. I saw a man flee the scene. I know him. Danny Holt. I see him now.” The operator was dumbstruck for a moment, then he asked his name, but Alex simply said the location of the petrol station and hung up. Then he threw his mobile out the window. “I'm so sorry Danny,” he whispered. _I love you, I love you, I love you_. He wished he had said it more often. But then perhaps Danny would keep believing in his innocence, and that was the opposite of what he needed right now. 

****

Danny kept checking the time obsessively. Alex had been gone for ten minutes, for fifteen minutes, seventeen, nineteen, nineteen and a half. Suddenly, a hand landed on his shoulder. Danny flinched and whipped his head around to see two police officers stand behind him; a man and a woman. The woman still had her hand on his shoulder. She looked down on him and said “Danny Holt, I need you to come with me.” 

****

They hadn't officially charged him. The male officer said they just had some questions. Something in his tone made Danny certain he was lying. He wasn't here as a witness. He was a suspect. They thought Alex was dead, and that Danny had killed him. It had to be. How had they found him? Was this why Alex had left?

“Danny?” The female police officer said his name softly, in a way that should be reassuring, calming, but only made him more anxious. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you know this man?” she showed him a picture of Alex. 

Danny nodded. “That's Alex. My partner.” Why would they ask this?

She frowned. Had he sounded too calm? But if Alex were dead, if he really had been the man in the suitcase, then Danny wouldn't have known that yet, would he? Did she think he had the demeanour of a cold-blooded killer? Or was she putting together the pieces of the puzzle? Would her next question be where Alex was hiding? And who the dead man really was? “This man is called Alistair,” she said calmly. 

The meaning of her words puzzled him. Why would she lie? _Or why would Alex lie?_

“When have you last seen your… partner?” 

He didn't like the slight pause before the word partner. Did she not believe him, or was she homophobic? “Two weeks ago. Why are you asking? Why am I here?” 

“Just to ask you some questions,” she said. She seemed annoyed at his questions. “Was that usual for you two, to not see each other for weeks?” 

“No, I… No.” 

“But you did not report him missing.” Was there judgement in her voice? 

“No,” he said weakly. 

She didn't go on about it. She showed him pictures of the masks, the toys, the bed. “Have you ever used these items with Alistair? Or “Alex” as you knew him?” 

What? “No!” he said. Where the hell was Alex? Did they really believe it was him in the suitcase, or had they found him? Was this a test? Prisoner's dilemma? Were they waiting to see who would pin the murder on the other one first? Was Alex in a room next to this one, getting asked similar questions?

“Knew?” he said, only picking up on her use of past tense now. It didn't have to mean that they thought… but maybe it did.

She sighed, as if he was a particularly stupid boy. “Your partner, whose name you didn't know, goes missing, and you do not report him as such. Why?” 

He clenched his jaw. “I thought… I thought he might have broken up with me.” He remembered the feeling all too well, prior to entering Alex's house.

“What do you know about him?” 

The question made his chest hurt. Not much. After eighth months, after the crazy days they'd had, after the confessions Alex had made, he still knew very little. “He is a genius. He went to university at fifteen. His parents are dead...” It was pretty much all he knew. 

“His parents are alive,” she said, as if it was obvious. Someone was lying, her or Alex, and it was a terrible feeling that he wasn't sure which one it was. He wanted to trust Alex blindly, but he had lied about things before, and he had left him behind, and why would the police lie? 

“Have you ever been in his attic?” 

“No.” A lie. But also a truth, in a way. He had not been in Alex's attic, only in the staged attic that had nothing to do with Alex at all. 

“A dead body has been found in the attic of Alistair's house.” 

His heart started beating fast. The nerves made his jaw tremble a bit. He tried to keep calm. “Was it…?” There was panic in his voice that he didn't have to fake. He wasn't sure which answer would be better. 

“I'm sorry. We believe it is Alistair.” 

He gasped. It was like the smell of the rotting carcass hit him once again, paired with the belief that it was him, it was Alex, the love of his life… dead. He nodded. “W… How?” he asked. 

There was a knock on the door, and a second later a man he didn't know walked in. “This stops right now!” he said, in a tone that allowed no argument. 

Danny jumped to his feet. “Can I go?” 

The woman didn't answer. The strange man said “Yes.”

Danny ran out of the room. His legs were shaking, and he leaned against the wall to steady himself.

“Danny?” He startled. The habitual relief at seeing Scottie disappeared the moment he realised what Scottie had done. Framing him. Wanting him to go down for murder… Scottie looked as friendly as ever. “Are you okay?” Scottie asked. This was playing out exactly the way Alex had predicted. Scottie would get him out. And then what? Then Alex would be convicted of murder. 

“Scottie,” he said flatly. “Alex...”

Scottie put a hand on his shoulder. He looked genuinely sorry. “Alistair.” he said softly. “I'm so sorry, Danny. Alex was not who he said he was. He was a spy.”

Danny closed his eyes for a moment. This much was true. But 'Alistair'? Why would Alex lie about his name, even after having been honest about his job? And why would he say that his parents were dead if they weren't? He needed to find out if it was true. And if there was one person who could help him, it was Scottie. But what if Alex was right, and Scottie wanted to… to what? Frame him? He had gotten him out, hadn't he? _Because you owe him now_. No. Maybe that was Alex predicting what would happen, and turning it into a narrative that was beneficial for him. 

“Danny?” Scottie sounded worried. “Let's get you home, okay?” 

Danny nodded. What else was he supposed to do? Run away, with nowhere to go? He needed Scottie. Without his help, the police would just lock him up again. Whether he believed Alex or not was not the issue here. He had no choice in this. “Thank you Scottie.” he said. His voice was devoid of all emotion.

Scottie smiled. “Everything for you, Danny.” 

Exactly. And that scared the shit out of him. 

Something occurred to him, and the thought was so horrible that he almost started crying. The dead body was in Alex's attic. In his suitcase. Alex owned a gun. He was a liar, and a spy, and of course he would know how to kill. 

He came back to the scene of the crime, or maybe he had never even left. Maybe _he_ had given Danny the keys. He had lured him there, so he would put his prints all over the closets, the suitcase… He did everything he could to make Danny look guilty, by making him run away. 

And nobody had known he would be at that petrol station. Nobody but Alex. Alistair. Whatever his name was.

There was only one possible solution to all of this.

Alex had murdered that guy.

And he was framing Danny for it.


	7. Home

Alex had to do his best to keep from crying. He kept reminding himself that he had a reason to do it this way: Danny's safety. And that was much more important than the fact that he had not just broken Danny's heart, but also his own. 

The first thing he did, was go into a public library and look up what the papers said. The news about the 'dead man in the suitcase' was incredibly vague. It only said that a body had been found, but the identity of the person was never mentioned, nor did it say whether there were suspects. If that was Scottie's work, his influence was more far-reaching than Alex had hoped. Or it was MI6, trying to avoid scandal. Whatever it was, his picture had not been printed in the papers, so he should be able to be in public without getting recognised as either victim or murderer. 

The other people using the public computers were two students writing a paper together, and an elderly man checking his email very, very slowly. Nobody was paying him any attention. He turned his screen away from the students a bit, just in case, and opened his email. Deep down, he was terrified that his research would be gone. He had sent it to himself multiple times, in various levels of encryptedness, but one could never be too sure. It was still there. He went to the counter and asked about printing, then he paid the lady behind the counter in cash and printed his research twice. He then looked up the nearest post office, went there, and put the copies in two separate envelopes. He addressed one to Mr and Mrs Turner, and one copy to professor Marcus Shaw.

Once he had done this, he could focus on Scottie. He listed the things he knew about Scottie, the things he had found out after meeting the man for the first time. Scottie had been MI6, but had been discharged, most likely for being gay. While not going on missions anymore, Scottie was still on MI6's payroll. Finding that out had been easy, since Alex had designed the encryption for the personnel files himself. He made sure that no one would ever know he had looked into it. While Scottie was still involved in MI6, there was no job description given. Alex had searched on and on, and had broken his own ethical code again by hacking Scottie's home network. Then he ran a program that did just one thing: search patterns. Eventually, the program had stumbled upon something odd. The pattern was about Scottie's personal communication in combination with his financials. It took Alex a short time to figure out the link, but a long time to convince himself that this was real.

Scottie was selling boys.

It was so crazy, so incredibly absurd, that Alex had just stared at the evidence for a long time, trying to find some other explanation. There wasn't one. Scottie had a very specific behavioural pattern: he befriended a young man (according to emails he had read, this was mostly by meeting them in a pub), gained their trust, lost their interest, and then the boy disappeared. And then, without fail, Scottie received a large sum of money from some foreign bank account.

One time was a tragedy, two times was a coincidence, and three times was a pattern. But seventeen times was cold hard evidence. 

Alex was not entirely sure how Scottie did it, but he gave those young men to foreign intelligence agencies. The most likely scenario was that Scottie told those foreign agencies that the young man in question was a spy, and that he could either be used as a double agent, or could be used for gathering information in other ways: by torturing and killing him. However he did it, the young men were all quite alike in some ways: as far as Alex could tell, most were uneducated, not in contact with their families, and most had a problematic past. The most striking thing though, was that all of them disappeared after breaking off contact with Scottie. Once the emails or other forms of communications stopped -at least from the young man's end- it would be a few weeks at best before the person stopped communicating at all. Those were the few weeks it took Scottie to convince his contacts that this person was MI6. 

It was one of the reasons Danny was safest with Scottie. If Scottie thought that Danny was still in love with Alex, and that there was a chance they would get back together, he might sell Danny out as well. And in this case, he would actually have some kind of proof that Danny was MI6. The botched interview had, however unlikely, not been a lie. Alex wished he could hack the police right now to find out if Danny was still in lock up, but he didn't risk it from a public computer. If Danny was free, his flatmates would know. It was too dangerous to just go to their flat, but he also couldn't call Pavel and ask him where Danny was, since Pavel's phone might be tapped. Scottie knew Alex was still alive, and he also knew that Alex would still remember Pavel's number. There was only one thing he could do to contact Pavel without giving himself away: lure him somewhere under false pretenses and hope that Scottie didn't have someone follow him. Getting Pavel to meet him would not be too hard: for a drug dealer Pavel was incredibly indiscreet about his clientèle. 

****

Pavel was incredibly relieved when he got the text. Money was tight at the moment, and Danny was away for the weekend, so he couldn't borrow some cash from him either. The person who texted him said he had gotten his number from his friend Mattie B., and asked if he still sold X. Of course he did. And Mattie B had recommended another friend of his to Pavel before, who had become somewhat of a regular, so he hoped this friend would be the same. The stranger, who called himself Ben in his text, proposed a spot for a meeting. It was a snackbar not far from where Pavel lived. It was perfect. He said he could be there in fifteen minutes, grabbed his goods, a knife -just in case- and left.

****

Pavel was right on time. Alex had been waiting at the corner of the street, and the moment he saw Pavel, he hit 'send' on his text, saying he was running late, and quickly approached him, before he would go into the snackbar. “Pavel!” 

Pavel startled, but looked relieved when he saw Alex. He shook his head and laughed a bit. “Sorry mate, you almost gave me a heart-attack there!” His phone buzzed, but he ignored it.

“Sorry about that. Do you have a moment?” Alex asked.

“Uhm...” Now Pavel looked at his phone. He sighed. “I do.” He narrowed his eyes. “What's up? I thought you'd be off somewhere romantic with Danny.” 

“Unfortunately, something came up.” Alex said.

“Oooh! Is this about the dead guy in your street? I said to Sara that I thought it was your street we saw in the papers, but we weren't sure.”

So they had not been questioned by police, or they would know it had been his house. For as far as they knew, there was no link between the dead body and either Alex or Danny. That was good. “It was, yes. The police questioned us, I'm just now coming back from the station. They wouldn't tell me if Danny has been released yet, and I couldn't reach him, but then I saw you and figured I'd just ask you. Is Danny back in the flat yet?”

“He wasn't when I left.”

“Mmh. He must be at Scottie's then.” Alex said. He had to be. Scottie would have gotten him out by now. 

Pavel raised his eyebrows. “After the falling out they've had, I really don't think Danny would be welcome there.”

Alex's heart started racing. “Falling out?” What? Danny had not mentioned any of the sort! But if this was true… Oh God… please let it not be true!

“Yeah mate. I don't know exactly what it was about, but Danny was really shaken up over it.” Pavel looked over his shoulder, at the snackbar. “I'm meeting someone here any moment, so… should I ask Danny to call you or something?”

“Yes, that would be great. I'm sorry for keeping you. Bye.” Alex raised his hand in a greeting, and Pavel nodded at him and went inside.

Scottie and Danny had had a fight, and now Alex had practically given Danny to him. Fuck! Why didn't Danny tell him?

 _Because he doesn't trust you anymore_. And Alex couldn't blame him.

****

Danny was heartbroken. He didn't speak to Scottie at all while they took a cab to Scottie's house. How could he have believed Alex's lies? Alex, who had said his name was Joe the second time they met. Who had lied again and again. Who had first made him run away, and then sold him out to the police. How could Danny have been so naive to think that the things Alex said about Scottie were true? It was ridiculous. He had known Alex for eighth months. Scottie had been in his life for nine years. Of course he could trust Scottie. 

But why would Alex do this? Why did he not give Danny to the police -or MI6- the moment they kicked the door in? Something wasn't adding up, and Danny felt like the answers were out there somewhere, just waiting to be found. 

In Scottie's house, he was reminded of the last time he'd been there. He made a tearful apology, and while he wasn't sure whether or not he really meant it, Scottie forgave him. Danny cried in his arms, saying that Alex was not the man he thought he'd known, and that he didn't know how to mourn for him now; a stranger. Again, he didn't know how much of what he said was the truth, and how much he just said to keep his options open. Some of the things Alex had told him about Scottie had buried themselves in his brain, and he could not just forget them, despite everything. He needed to find out how much of it was true, and do it without Scottie finding out. And until he knew, he could not trust Scottie, not completely. He needed to get away from him, but without making it seem like he was running. 

For now at least, just to be safe, he had to assume that Alex had been right. 

That evening, when Scottie insisted that Danny have some dinner, he laid the groundwork for his plan. “Alex – or fucking 'Alistair', lied to me about everything,” he said. The anger was only partly an act. 

Scottie nodded. He was not surprised at all.

“His parents are alive. I can't bloody believe it! Why did he lie about his parents?” He took a big gulp of his wine. “I want to speak to them. I want to ask them why their son is a bloody liar.” 

“Do you really think it is a good idea to go talk to his parents? Would you not hurt yourself by doing that?” 

Was it genuine concern, or was there another reason why Scottie didn't want him to meet Alex's parents? Whatever it was, Danny was determined to find them. “Can you help me, Scottie? I just need to be sure that they are really… that the police isn't lying to me.” 

Scottie nodded slowly. 

Did he agree now because he thought that by proving to Danny that Alex had lied about his parents, Danny wouldn't mind Alex being gone? Or being dead? If the things Alex had said were true, Scottie knew he was still alive… but if it was all a lie, then Scottie probably thought what the police thought as well, that the dead man in the suitcase was Alex himself. 

“I'll help you,” Scottie said. “Tomorrow.” 

“Thank you,” Danny said, and managed to force a smile. “I don't know where I'd be without you, Scottie.” He really didn't. Would he be somewhere nice with Alex, for their promised weekend away? Or would he be in police custody because Alex framed him for murder? 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd start to find out what was going on, and he could only hope it would not be too late by then.

****

When Danny woke up the following morning, there was one thought running around in his mind: “wipe your prints”. It was a memory, one that had somehow found its way back into his thoughts that night. Alex had said it when they were in the attic, right before they ran.

Danny felt cold inside. _Wipe your prints_. His entire reason for not trusting Alex was because it seemed like Alex was framing him. But there were no prints in that attic, because Alex had told him in a panic to get rid of them. Alex was not framing him.

But what did that say about Scottie?

At breakfast, Scottie handed him a note with an address. 

“Alex's parents?” Danny asked. 

Scottie nodded.

Maybe they weren't really Alex's parents, in which case Scottie and the police were liars. Or they were alive, and Alex could not be trusted, at least not about this. Or, option three, there was a very good reason why Alex had lied about them. Danny wasn't sure which option he hoped for. He only hoped that by the end of his visit, things would finally start to make sense.

****

Alex spent the night in the car. He couldn't sleep, he was too worried. Not just about Danny's safety, but about the next step in all of this. Danny would have heard by now that his name was Alistair, and that his parents were alive. He knew Danny well enough to know that Danny would want to meet his parents. But would he bring Scottie to them as well? If so, going there was the dumbest thing Alex could possibly do. Alex didn't know if Danny had told Scottie that Alex was still alive. If he had, Scottie would do everything he could to get Alex out of the way, and if he believed that Danny still loved Alex, he might even kill Danny too. But if Danny had NOT told Scottie that Alex was alive, and Scottie saw him, he'd know that Danny had lied to him. And in that case his rage would turn on Danny regardless of what he thought of his feelings.

But Alex was sure that Danny would go see his parents, and it was the only way he could get into contact with him. Alex had made a mistake by thinking Danny was safest with Scottie. He had made a decision based on incomplete information, and now he was paying the price for it. He needed to make it right. He needed to find Danny, talk things out, and solve it together.

Alex would have to go back home for the first time in ten years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long! First I was incredibly busy, and then my internet was gone. :(


	8. The maze

Danny thought he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. It wasn't a house; it was a fortress. There was a bloody drawbridge for fucks sake! He stopped the car and looked at the note with the address, then looked up at the house once more. Someone appeared on the drawbridge, and Danny only had to take one look at her to know she was Alex's mum.

She didn't move, just looked at him. 

He got out of the car, and waved. 

She turned around and went back inside. She left the front door open. 

Danny ran after her, interpreting the open door as an invitation of sorts. The house looked like a museum that had been deserted for some time. There were white sheets covering what had to be statues in the halls, looking like there were ghosts standing there, waiting. 

The woman was sitting on a chair by the fire. 

Danny walked into the room -it wasn't a living room, it looked like no one ever came here- without knocking and approached the woman, who had her back turned to him.

“Sit down,” she said.

He hesitated, but she gestured at the second chair by the fire, so he sat down. 

She held a glass of some strong liquor in her hand, and was staring into the flames. “So, you are Danny Holt.” 

Her voice was exactly the way he had imagined, based on her appearance; posh, cold, with a hoarseness that came from smoking for decades. There was a distance in her voice that made it perfectly obvious what she thought of him. Was it because he was a man, or because -by her standards at least- he looked shabby? Or was it because he was this particular man; the boyfriend of the son she thought she'd lost? Her expression was stern. She didn't seem the type to smile a lot.

“I am,” he said. “And you are Alex's mum.” 

“Alistair,” she said, and looked at him. 

He almost apologised, but could stop himself. Her eyes were as cold as her voice, the colour of a watery blue that was completely different from Alex's warm, grey blue. He had said 'Alex' without agenda, simply because he was used to calling him that. He would never get used to saying 'Alistair'. “He introduced himself to me as Alex,” he said, not sure if he said it as an explanation, or meant it as defiance: _your son wants to be called something different from the name you made up for him._

“Why are you here?” she asked.

She had let him in. If she didn't want to talk, she could have stayed inside, pretended not to be home. “Because I loved your son.” The past tense was for her benefit. Wasn't it?

“My son is dead,” she said. “As are his father and I, if he is to be believed.” She still sounded detached, like nothing she said had any meaning to her, but there was something in her eyes that gave away that she was hurt. There was something else in there too. She understood. For a reason he didn't know, she knew why Alex would deny her existence.

“How do you know? That he said that?” he asked.

She smiled without really meaning it, and took a sip of her drink. Then she set the glass down on the coffee table. “Because it is the last thing he said to me: that we were dead to him, and that we would be dead to everyone who ever asked him about his parents.” 

How long had this been ago that she was able to talk about it like this? As if she was talking about someone else, looking at it from afar? And why had Alex walked out of their lives like this? Where was his father? What did they do to Alex? “Alex was murdered,” he said softly.

She looked into the flames for a long time, not responding. 

The silence lasted for several minutes, and Danny thought that she wanted him to leave, but he couldn't just get up and go now. He wanted to find out everything he could, and this might be the only chance he had to talk to this woman who, for better or worse, had known Alex since he was just a child. 

Eventually, she picked up her glass, swung back the rest of her drink, and turned to him. She looked him straight in the eyes, and said “I know.” 

****

This was the point where his mind made him wake up every time he was back here in his dreams. But this wasn't a nightmare; Alex was really driving home. He saw the house in the distance, the collection of rooms that had never been 'home', ever. He stopped before he reached the driveway, where the trees would hide the car from sight.

His hands started shaking, and he gripped the steering wheel harder. The house looked different than it did in his dreams, different from his memories and fantasies. Not bigger or smaller. Just different. The sense of dread was the same though. Danny's car was parked in front of the drawbridge, the sight of which was both a relief and a heartbreaking confirmation that Danny was in the company of his mother right now. Alex tried to keep his breaths slow, to not subside to the panicked breaths of his nightmares. He closed his eyes until he felt calm enough to get out of the car. 

Mr and Mrs Turner's house was to his left, he knew that, but couldn't see it through the trees. They would receive his package today or tomorrow, and of course wouldn't know what it was, but he was sure they would keep it safe. His parent's housekeeper and gardener had always been more like parents to him than his mum and dad. He tried not to think about it. On the right of the driveway, the maze was calling him, drawing him in. It was exactly the way he had pictured it: the hedges were still impeccably cut, but higher than they had been when he had looked at them for what he had believed to be the last time. Higher, more threatening. Harder to escape from. 

He knew the way out.

How could he ever forget?

****

She meant it, he had no doubt about it. She believed what he said, and she had known it before. Had the police told her? “You know?” 

“Yes,” she said. There was sadness in her voice now, but she was still perfectly composed. How could she be so calm about it? 

“Do you know who did it?” he asked. It was strange how he almost believed that Alex was dead himself when he asked these things. 

She shook her head, as if scaring away an annoying fly, and said “It could have been anyone, don't you agree?” 

What?

She looked at him, with cold, searching eyes. Did she think he did it, that she was talking to her son's murderer right now? 

“Anyone?” he asked softly. Did Alex have so many enemies? Did his mum know things Danny didn't know? Had something happened in the past that had made it clear to her that one day her son would be killed?

“How well did you know Alistair?” she asked.

Not at all. He didn't know a person called Alistair, who had an attic full of sex toys and was a spy for MI6. He only knew Alex, the orphan boy, the genius, who worked in a bank and was shy and inexperienced and sweet. He didn't answer her question, which was an answer in itself.

She smiled, satisfied with what his silence told her. “Alistair was gifted. From a very young age, I knew he would accomplish great things. Have you seen the maze outside?” 

He didn't respond, but of course she knew he had seen it. It was hard to miss.

“Alistair made his way out of that maze, unassisted, when he was five years old. He had only been in the maze once before, but still he did it in one go. No turning back, no running into a dead end. Sure, you might think you know that he was smart, you might presume to know what was going on inside his mind, but ask yourself, can you ever truly know someone like him?” 

“He was my boyfriend!” Danny said, suddenly angry. “For eighth months. How long have you not seen him? One year? Five years? Longer? I'd wager that I know him better than you do.” he was angry at her, and he didn't even know her. He just knew that everything about Alex was starting to make sense the longer he was in the presence of his mother. Why he was surprised anyone could love him; this woman didn't seem the type to say the words, or to even show it in any way. Why he spoke the way he did, without emotion, just facts; because that was the way his mother spoke to him. 

“My son,” she said, on that same detached tone, “didn't feel the same way other people did. I'm sure you really believe what you just said, that you were his 'boyfriend'. But you weren't. You were one of many.” 

For a moment, he felt like she had punched him in the stomach. _One of many._

Bullshit. There had never been anyone for Alex. Not before they met, not while they were dating, never. He was the first, the only, the last person Alex had felt any kind of connection with. His mum was right that Alex didn't feel the same way others did. But he did have feelings. And he had them for Danny. Only him. He was sure of that. Why did she lie? Or did she genuinely believe it? “How would you know?” he asked, and leaned forward a bit, smirking at her. She didn't know her son the way Danny did.

She smiled back at him, in a way that was intimidating in its calmness, but he didn't let himself shrink away. “You are not his family. You are not his next of kin. Do you really think the police would tell you the same things they told me?” 

Everything she said was designed to hurt him, he knew that. “What are you saying?” 

“I'm saying that Alistair was not who you thought he was. To him, you were nothing more than a puzzle. And once he solved it, he would have cast you aside. Sex was a puzzle to him too. The more difficult the better. And it got him killed.” She sounded so sure of it. Like she didn't even doubt it. But was it an act?

“How did he die?” 

She looked him up and down, as if sizing him up. “He was locked in a trunk. Do you know what erotic asphyxiation means?” 

He scoffed. Of course he knew, he wasn't an idiot. And she knew that, she just wanted to make it clear to him that she thought he was too dumb, too uneducated to understand. 

“Someone locked him in there, and simply left. Or waited too long, and then left.” It sounded like she didn't even care. How could she believe these things? Did she not know her son at all? Had Alex changed so much since he grew up here? Or was she just a very experienced liar? But, again, why would she lie about this? 

“That's not true, and you know it,” he said. “And I won't rest until I know the truth.” He needed to find out who the dead man in the trunk was. If this woman knew the truth, she would never tell him. “I'll go to the papers and tell them everything I know.” 

Suddenly, she stood up. “If it's money that you want, you will not get it. I have done everything I could to keep my son's name from being dragged through the mud, and I won't let someone -someone who claims to have loved him- undo my work!” 

“Who did you speak to? Police? MI6?” 

She shook her head, she wasn't going to answer. “I have to ask you to leave.” she said coldly. 

He stared at her for a few seconds. “You are lying, and I might not understand why, but I'll find out.” 

She didn't respond. She just stood there, her face carefully blank, and watched him leave. 

****

He wasn't sure why he did it, but he went into the maze. Maybe he wanted to find out how hard it was, maybe he wanted to walk where Alex had walked and feel closer to him. The hedges were tall, at least two and a half meters high. Even when jumping as high as he could, he would not be able to look over the hedges. 

From the outside, it was difficult to picture just how huge the maze was. The paths were narrow, not wide enough for two people to walk side by side. It made Danny feel slightly claustrophobic, but he needed to find the middle, he needed to stand where Alex had stood when he was five. He tried to remember where he had walked, but with every dead end he ran into, with every time he had to turn back, it got more difficult to remember if he had seen this path before. This slightly dried out patch in the grass, was it the same as before, or one similar to that one? Had he taken this turn, or was it worth trying? Eventually, he gave up on trying to remember, and just walked at random. He didn't know how long he had wandered through the maze, when he took a left turn and could tell by the light that there was an open space ahead. He had reached the middle of the maze. 

A weird feeling came over him when he took the last remaining steps towards the open space, as if he knew something terrible would happen. He stepped into the middle, and his mouth went dry. There was a person lying on the ground in the middle, with his eyes closed. He was not moving.

It was Alex.

****

“Alex!” 

As if the scream wasn't enough, someone started to shake his shoulder violently, which startled Alex. He opened his eyes. Danny had fallen to his knees by his side, and was staring at him with his eyes wide open with shock. 

“Are you okay?!” Danny asked, still shaking Alex's shoulder, as if he wasn't sure that Alex was really alive. 

Seeing the worry in Danny's eyes, the way he was looking at Alex's body looking for signs of injury, made Alex tear up. Despite everything, Danny's first instinct was to see if he was okay. “I'm so sorry...” he said. His voice sounded oddly strangled, due to the lump in his throat. He pushed himself up, and Danny immediately wrapped his arms around him.

_Forgiveness._

Alex put his arms around Danny as well, and held him tight. He had walked through the maze in one go, and once he reached the middle, he had started to panic. _I know the way out, I know the way out_. Thinking it was not enough to push away the tightness in his chest, the memory was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. The loneliness he had felt standing in the middle, the loneliness that had never truly gone away ever again. The loneliness that had become a constant companion until he met Danny. 

I will not make it out of here. 

I know the way out. He could leave, but he didn't want to run, it felt as if he was a coward if he ran. So he stayed in the middle, and let the panic hit him full force, until he had to lie down and close his eyes to keep the hedges from closing in on him, smothering him, suffocating him. 

And then, suddenly, Danny was here. Alex was not alone. He was saved.

“I'm so sorry,” he sobbed, “I'm so sorry!” 

“It's okay...” Danny said softly. He was crying too. 

“It's not! It's not!” Alex pulled back, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and looked at Danny, at the tears on his cheeks, the fear in his eyes, and tried to keep from breaking down again. “I called the police!” he said. He needed to say it, and say it right now, before he wouldn't have the courage to do so anymore. “I wanted them to arrest you!” 

“I know,” Danny said softly. He didn't look angry, just sad. Heartbroken. “I wished you would tell me everything. Everything you can. I'm with you, Alex. I am. Until the end.” Danny started sobbing, and covered his face with his hands. Alex took him in his arms again, _Danny still loved him_ , and held him, not sure if he was doing it for Danny or for himself, and maybe it didn't matter. Maybe that was what love was, holding each other and knowing it feels right, even if you don't know why. 

****

Alex and Danny sat opposite each other, both sitting back against the hedges. 

Alex had his eyes closed, and was breathing very slowly. He knew that Danny was watched him with worry. It was good to know that he was not alone. Eventually, he opened his eyes and started speaking. “My parents are the only people who call me Alistair. I have always hated the name. I've introduced myself as Alex ever since I can remember.” 

Danny nodded slowly, giving him a little smile that seemed to say 'go on'. 

“You've met my mother. She was always saying how smart I was, but that was not enough. I had to be better; learn to play the piano and the violin… I didn't like it. Not one bit.” He paused, staring at the grass. “When other teenagers were being rebellious, that meant that they were doing drugs, drinking, having sex… for me, being a rebel was answering a question wrong, playing the same wrong note over and over again when I reached a certain part of a song, pretending I didn't understand an explanation even though I did.” It seemed so petty, even back then, but it was the only thing he could do to get under his mum's skin. 

Danny stood up, and sat down next to Alex, with his arms around his legs, and his cheek resting on his knees so he could look at him. 

“She was never really a parent to me. I always felt like I was my mother's project, not her son.” 

Danny nodded. “I can imagine,” he said softly. He reached out and put his hand on Alex's thigh. “You're not a project to me.” 

Alex smiled a little and placed his hand over Danny's. This was why he loved him, why he had been drawn to him from the moment they met. Because to Danny, he was just Alex, not Alistair the boy genius, or the MI6 codebreaker, or the boy who started university at fifteen. He was Alex who liked to run, who was painfully shy, but who still had the guts to show up at Danny's door. He was someone who didn't initiate physical contact, but loved it when Danny did, who remembered numbers because he wanted to remember them. He was a man, not a project. 

And to Alex, Danny was a man, not a puzzle to be solved or a question to be answered. He had never had that before. 

Alex looked around, at the towering hedges that surrounded them. 

“Did she tell you about the maze?” he asked softly. 

“Yes.” 

“Did she tell you she blindfolded me and carried me to the middle of the maze and left me there? I was five years old, Danny. Did she tell you I cried and screamed and begged her to come get me, but she didn't? Did she tell you I kept walking back to the middle, and then walking one turn further, back to the middle, one turn further, because I thought I'd be in there forever? Because I knew she would not come to rescue me? Because she had told me that if I didn't make it out within five minutes, she would close the entrance for ever? Did she tell you that the second time she did that, I ran out within seconds, in a blind panic, and hid in the woods so she would not do it again? Did she tell you I still have nightmares about that maze?” He stopped, his voice was thick with tears and the feeling he had felt back then seemed to push him down, make his muscles feel tense and weak at the same time. 

This was the reason he ran, because he always feared that one day he would not make it out in time, even though it was just in his dreams. 

Danny's hand was still there, on his leg, squeezing softly. “It's over, Alex. It's over.” Danny whispered. “I'm here with you.” 

Alex nodded, again wiping away his tears. “What else did she tell you?” he asked. 

Danny hesitated. He took Alex's hand. “Are you sure…?

“I can handle it,” Alex promised him. Nothing his mum had said could hurt him, not anymore.

Danny looked nervous, like he was afraid of hurting Alex. “She thinks you are dead. She believes the… the things about the attic. That you were locked in the suitcase because you wanted it.” 

Alex frowned. It didn't make any sense. His mum knew how he was. Sure, he hadn't seen her in ten years, but still… there was no way she believed this. Why did she lie to Danny? What reason could she possibly have had for doing that?

 _Zzzzt_. It was barely louder than a whisper, the sound of fabric gliding past the hedges, but it was enough to make Alex go into high alert immediately. _They were not alone_. He clasped his hand over Danny's mouth, and listened. Danny's eyes were wide open, but he was staring into the direction where the sound had come from, so he knew why Alex wanted him to be silent. Alex slowly let go and stood up. He pulled Danny up by his hand, and pointed at the other path that lead into the open space. As softly as possible, they walked towards that exit. They were one meter away from disappearing between the hedges, when everything happened incredibly fast. A voice behind them yelled “Stop or I shoot!”, Danny took another step, but a bullet hit the hedges two inches from where he was, and he froze. At the same time, Alex took a step forward, putting his body between Danny and the person who had said it, and pushed Danny into the pathway between the hedges. “RUN!” he shouted.

He turned around, and heard Danny stumble into the pathway. Judging by the sound of his body crashing into the bushes he had tripped over, but held onto the hedges to stay on his feet. Whoever the shooter was, Danny was out of their sight.

Alex finally looked into the direction of the shooter, and something inside of him seemed to break. 

She had her gun aimed directly at Alex's heart, and her finger was on the trigger, ready to shoot.

He looked her in the eyes, those familiar, cold eyes, and said words he never thought he'd say again. “Hello, mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say this every time, but sorry updates take so long. I finally have time to write now, so the new update will be there within five days, as I promised a long time ago. 
> 
> In this story, Mr and Mrs Turner are just the employees of Alex's parents, and not his real parents. I felt like that sideplot made no sense, so yeah. Frances is his real mum.


	9. Mother

The young man arrived one morning, just like she had been told. Frances watched him get out of the car. She couldn't stand looking at him, so she went inside, leaving the door open in a reluctant invitation. She sat down by the fire where she had been waiting, and poured another drink. Daniel “Danny” Holt, the one who could ruin everything. Who _would_ ruin everything… if she didn't manage to convince him that Alistair was the person MI6 had painted him as.

The man came in, hovering by the door. 

She saw the house through his eyes, could feel him judge it, judge _her_ for its emptiness. She knew exactly what he thought of her, even before he had said one word. “Sit down,” she said impatiently, already willing him to leave, even though he had only been here for a moment. Talking about Alistair hurt, and she wanted to get this over as quickly as possible. When she gestured at the chair next to hers, he finally came in and sat down. She didn't look at him when she said “So, you are Danny Holt.” The famous nuisance, the one who probably didn't mean to, but would make everything worse. The one who would ruin Alistair's reputation even in death. 

“I am. And you are Alex's mum.” 

How dared he? She turned at him sharply. “Alistair” she said. Her son was called Alistair. 

Danny Holt set his jaw and said “He introduced himself to me as Alex.” 

So this was the way he was going to play it. Hurt her, try to make her give up on her son? That was one thing she would never, ever do. She didn't respond to his hurtful comment, instead asking “Why are you here?”.

“Because I loved your son.” He sounded as if he meant it. 

It broke her heart. If he meant it, really meant it, this was hell for him. But the truth was even worse. Nothing could be worse than that. The lies the police had told him and the lies she had to tell him were for his own benefit as much as they were for hers, as much as they were for Alistair's. The old man had been right when he said Danny Holt wouldn't rest. He had been right when he said Danny would ruin them all if she let him. She was tired, so unbelievably tired. Was losing her son not enough? “My son is dead.” It was the first time she said the words out loud, and they hurt even more than they did when she thought them, hundreds of times a day. “As are his father and I, if he is to be believed.” She couldn't blame him, no matter how much it hurt, knowing how much he despised her. 

“How do you know? That he said that?” he asked, sounding suspicious. 

What was the point of lying? “Because it is the last thing he said to me: that we were dead to him, and that we would be dead to everyone who ever asked him about his parents.” 

He seemed to think that over for a while. Maybe he decided he believed her, or he didn't care, but he didn't ask anything about it. “Alex was murdered,” he said softly.

Was he lying? Or simply in denial? MI6 had made it look like an accidental death, hadn't they? Maybe he really loved Alistair, loved him so much he couldn't believe that Alistair had caused his own death. It was of vital importance that he started to believe it. “I know,” she said. A slip of the tongue. A mistake. Not one she couldn't fix.

He was taken aback by her answer, asked her “You know?” with equal parts surprise and disgust. When she said “yes,” he asked her if she knew who had done it. He was suspicious of everything she said, but was it because he thought she was in on it, or because he believed she knew more than she let on? She was really losing her patience now. Talking to a boy who -in another life, with a different son- could have been her son-in-law, was draining. She tried not to picture how Alistair's life could have been if he was able to have this kind of relationship for real. If they were the way he had obviously liked to pretend they were. If he had loved Danny Holt for real. But none of that was the case. Her parenting had made sure of that. She tried to shake her own guilt and keep it together. This was her redemption: making sure Alistair's death didn't turn into a scandal. Make sure his… ways… didn't get out in the open. Make it an accident, not revenge. Make it one death, not many. Convince Danny Holt that Alistair wasn't even close to the “Alex” he had loved. “It could have been anyone, don't you agree?” 

She needed to break his heart. 

“Anyone?” he asked softly. He looked fragile suddenly, exactly like she intended. 

“How well did you know Alistair?” she asked, pushing him closer to the breaking point. 

He didn't answer, which pleased her; it would make this easier. She had to drive her point home, make him realise Alistair’s intellect was beyond grasping for someone like Danny. She told him about the maze, omitting her parts in it as much as possible. Whether that was because of the haunting guilt or because he had no right to that information, she wasn't sure. 

He got angry. “He was my boyfriend!” 

The poor soul. He seemed so convinced. She needed to get rid of him. Make him see that he was wrong, make him give up on this quest of his. This quest for the truth, the truth that he thought he wanted, but that would haunt him forever if he knew. 

“For eighth months. How long have you not seen him? One year? Five years? Longer? I'd wager that I know him better than you do.” 

He needed to go. She could not stand listening to him talk about her son any longer. She would not be insulted by his words. It was time for some harsh 'truths'. “My son didn't feel the same way other people did. I'm sure you really believe what you just said, that you were his 'boyfriend'. But you weren't. You were one of many.” It was an act of love, wasn't it? Her protecting him from the even more terrible reality? She did it for Alistair, or Alex, or whatever he chose to call himself. It was forgiveness. She forgave him for turning his back on her, and she could only hope he could forgive her for the things she had done to him, thinking she was helping him. 

The older man had been right when he said that Danny wasn't easily swayed. Even though he looked hurt, he didn't let go. He leaned forward a bit, looking cocky and sure of himself, despite everything. “How would you know?” he asked. 

She was really getting angry now, but hid it behind her calmness, the way Alistair had always done when he was mad at her. “You are not his family. You are not his next of kin. Do you really think the police would tell you the same things they told me?”

He kept looking at him while she told him what he really meant to Alistair. It was painful, she knew that, but he needed to know. He needed to give up. He looked offended when she told him everything, that he was a puzzle, that she knew exactly how Alistair had died, that he had brought it on himself. 

“That's not true, and you know it. And I won't rest until I know the truth. I'll go to the papers and tell them everything I know.” Exactly like the old man had predicted. 

Frances stood up. “If it's money that you want, you will not get it. I have done everything I could to keep my son's name from being dragged through the mud, and I won't let someone -someone who claims to have loved him- undo my work!” The heartbreaking thing was, she didn't think he wanted money. She was convinced he meant it when he said he loved “Alex” and that he wanted to find out the truth. He didn't know which kind of damage he was doing. 

“Who did you speak to? Police? MI6?” MI6 of course, but she wouldn't tell him that. She wanted him to go, to leave her alone with her guilt. “I have to ask you to leave.”

Danny stared at her for a few seconds. “You are lying, and I might not understand why, but I'll find out.” How did he know? There had to be something he knew but wasn't telling her. 

She tried to convince herself her heart wasn't breaking when she saw the pain and confusion in his eyes right before he turned around and left. Looking through the window, she saw him enter the maze. It was so conflicting, all of this. Everything she had thought she'd known about Alistair had been flipped upside down in the past few days, and every contradictory piece of evidence made it harder to decide on what to believe. Ten years ago, when Alistair had left her behind, she could not have imagined that he would meet someone he loved, which was the case if Danny was to be believed. But she also couldn't imagine her son as a murderer, which was the other explanation. Was there a third option, one that was so strange she couldn't even imagine it yet?

Was it worse than option A and B? Alistair had changed, that much was clear, but he had either turned into someone who could love deeply, or someone who couldn't love at all. And she knew she was to blame if it was the latter.

Danny didn't come out of the maze.

Why?

Her gun had been within reach all this time, stuffed between the seat cushions of the armchair she was sitting on. She took it out now, not sure herself why she thought she might need it, and went outside. Going into the maze, she heard voices. Danny was speaking with someone, but the other person's voice was too soft to determine who it was. Maybe it was the older gentleman who had come to inform her of Alistair's death. The one who had given her a name that turned out to be fake. The man who was so obviously MI6. The man who had convinced her that the best thing she could do was to make sure there was no fuss. The one who had warned her that Danny would come here, that he would try to make her doubt things, that he was searching for the truth.

The truth.

The terrible truth, that she wish she didn't know. 

Alex was a murderer. He was dead, and he was a murderer, and MI6 was covering it up. This boy, this Danny Holt, was not allowed to unearth that truth. 

Or… the thought made her glad she had the gun on her. Maybe Danny worked with that old man. Maybe he had been lying…? But she'd seen the picture of the dead body, she had seen the evidence of the disappearances of other young men, she had seen it all… What was it that Danny was hiding? And that old man… He was MI6. Why would MI6 lie to her? 

The sound of her sleeve getting caught on the hedge made her stand frozen to the ground for a moment. The voices stopped. 

They had heard her.

Danny, and whoever he was with, knew she was here. 

The soft sound of footsteps told her they were fleeing. If it was MI6, they would be armed. She took the few remaining steps towards the open space, and saw Danny and someone else try to reach the exit. “Stop or I shoot!” she yelled, a demand that was promptly ignored by Danny, so she fired at the hedges next to him, forcing him to stop. 

The other man pushed him out of the way and shouted “RUN!”. For a moment, Frances believed it was the fear in his voice that made a shiver go down her spine, but then the man turned around and looked at her, and her world crumbled around her. 

Alistair looked at the gun she was still aiming at him, and then at her. He looked broken, scared, but -and this was the worst part- not surprised. 

_He was alive._

Impossible.

_I have seen you dead._

Her son looked at her, with those greyish blue eyes that were so different yet so familiar. His voice was deeper than she remembered when he spoke to her for the first time since running away, never to return: “Hello, mother.” 

She looked at him in disbelief, for one second, two seconds, an eternity. Then, with a movement so fast that she had no time to respond, he pulled a gun from his waistband and aimed it at her. 

****

His mother still looked the same. Half an hour ago, he would have said that he way he felt about her was still the same as ten years ago as well. Now though, now Danny had told him she believed every lie about him, now that she had shot at Danny, now that she was aiming her gun at his heart, he felt like he had no idea who she was anymore.

“Surprise,” he said bitterly.

Frances didn't move for a few seconds, she just stared at him with a haunted expression. “Are you...” she seemed to change her mind halfway though the sentence, ending it with “...alone?” 

“Only Danny is here,” he replied, surprised at how cold his own voice sounded.

She nodded. “Are you here to kill me?” she asked. Her voice sounded hoarse, flat, devoid of all emotion, even though her face showed a mixture of total bewilderment and something he might have mistaken for heartbreak if he didn't know her. 

“Not if you drop your weapon,” he said, sounding far more calm than he actually was. If he thought, even for a second, that she might hurt Danny, he would not hesitate. He'd pull the trigger, and it wouldn't be difficult for him at all.

She nodded again. Then she slowly moved her finger off the trigger, and aimed her gun up at the sky before she put the safety back on and dropped her gun. 

“Kick it towards me,” he said.

She did. 

He put his foot down on the weapon, and slid it backwards, so it was behind him. Only then did he lower his gun and dared to look over his shoulder. “Danny? Are you okay?” 

Danny emerged behind him. “Yeah,” he said weakly. He was pale, his eyes darted between Frances and the weapon in Alex's hand. Suddenly, he jumped forwards, startling Alex, who quickly looked at Frances again, expecting her to be holding another weapon.

She wasn't.

****

Danny rushed past Alex, just in time to catch her before she collapsed. He lowered Frances to the ground slowly, making her sit up against the hedges. She wasn't unconscious, but was starting to hyperventilate. “Alex!” Danny said softly, giving him a pointed look as Alex just stood there and did nothing. 

Alex laid his weapon on the ground, said “Make sure she can't get to them,” and waited until Danny was standing close to both weapons. Then he approached his mum, who had her eyes closed and was breathing very fast, and patted her down. 

“Jesus,” Danny mumbled, but Alex knew he understood. 

Alex placed his hand around his mum's throat, knowing full well that this would look to Danny as though he intended to kill her. He gently applied pressure to both sides of her neck, then he looked at Danny and explained “I'm partly stopping the blood flow to her brain, to stop her from hyperventilating.” 

Frances' breaths slowed down, and she looked at Alex the whole time. 

Alex avoided looking her in the eyes, looking at his watch instead, counting her heartbeats. He didn't speak at all. After a few minutes, he weakened his grip, and still not looking at her, asked “Are you okay?”. His voice was detached, very much the same as his mum's voice had always sounded when addressing him.

She nodded, but there were tears in her eyes. “They told me you were dead!” she said, and sobbed softly. 

Alex didn't respond. Finally, he looked her in the eyes, searching for an indication that she was lying. Just because he saw no evidence of it, that didn't mean she was telling the truth. He was not a machine, he could be fooled. And still, he was inclined to believe her. “Let's get her inside,” he said, gesturing at Danny. “Take the guns with you.” 

Danny picked up the guns carefully. 

Alex leaned down and picked up his mum bridal style. “I know the way out,” he mumbled. 

His mum clenched her eyes shut as he said it, suppressing a sob. 

Alex knew that both of them were remembering that day when he was five, sobbing and screaming in the middle of the maze, begging for her to come back. He was not that kid anymore. He was twenty-eight years old, he knew the way out, he had lived a happy life without her, he had a boyfriend, he knew what love was. He was not that kid anymore. _He knew the way out. He knew the way out._

It was calming in a way, to hear Danny's footsteps behind him as he walked through the maze sideways, carefully moving around corners to not hurt Frances. And yet it was a relief when he made it to the exit in one go. Some things just never disappeared. 

Fear was one of them.

****

Frances prided herself on being a strong woman. It wasn't like her to collapse. But she'd spent the last few days thinking her son was dead, and seeing him alive was not just a relief, it flipped everything upside down – again. She'd been the best spy of her year, she knew that. It was chilling that she had been fooled like this, and even more chilling that she still didn't know what was going on. Why would MI6 tell her that Alistair was dead? The man who had brought her the news _had_ been MI6, she had no doubt about that. 

Alistair carried her inside and put her down on the couch. He knelt down in front of her, and felt her pulse again. 

She didn't notice Danny had left until he came back into the room with a glass of water, which she took with shaking fingers. “Thank you.” 

“You're welcome,” he said with a warm smile. 

“What happened?” Alistair asked, and she knew he was not talking about her breakdown. He got up and sat down on the couch opposite from the one she was sitting on. 

“Alex,” Danny said softly, and she caught him looking at her with genuine worry, “maybe let her rest a bit first, yeah?” 

“No,” Frances and Alistair said at the same time. They looked at each other with surprise. 

Frances cleared her throat. “No,” she repeated. “You need to know what has happened. So do I.” 

Alistair nodded. 

“They told me you were dead,” she said again, softly, aware that her voice was filled with more emotion than Alistair had ever heard from her.

“Who is _they_?” Alistair asked, narrowing his eyes a bit.

Danny stood to the side, awkwardly wringing his hands. 

“MI6.” 

Alistair and Danny exchanged an alarmed look, then Alistair looked at her again. “What exactly did they say?” 

“They said...” she took a slow, deep breath to keep from breaking down again. “He said that you hadn't come to work in a few days. When they went to your apartment, they found you in the attic. Dead. Murdered, most likely by someone in a drug-fueled rage. There was another dead man lying on a bed there.” 

Alistair showed no emotion at all while he listened to her saying these things. Danny however, kept looking back and forth between them with genuine concern. Danny sat down next to Alistair and took his hand. The little smile Alistair gave him when he did told her everything she needed to know. Just like that, she knew that it was real. They loved each other. She could cry with happiness. She had been a bad mother, she knew that, and for days she had believed she would have to live with that forever, with no chance of making it up to him. But he had been happy. He had Danny in his life. He was capable of love, even if she hadn't taught him about that. He didn't need to be taught; it was in him all that time. 

“The man showed me evidence, photos of a dead man in a trunk, a man who I believed was…” _you_. She couldn't say it. “And photos of the other dead man...” 

Danny squeezed Alistair's hand. Alistair frowned. “That other man… Could it have been the same man? The one who was in the trunk?” 

She thought about it, shuddering at the memory of seeing the photo of who she believed to be her dead son. The body had decomposed quite a bit before the picture was taken. The only things that were still noticeable were that he was tall and had dark hair. His face was not visible. The dead man on the bed had dark hair too, but his body was in better shape, due to the air in the attic being cooler than the little bit of air in the trunk. Someone could have taken a picture of the man when he had just died, and then put him in the trunk, waited a few days and taken another photo. “It could be. He showed me the results of a DNA test, showing that it was you.” She didn't have to explain to Alistair how easy it was to fake something like that. According to the older man, hair from Alistair's hairbrush had been compared to the DNA of the dead person in the trunk, since he was beyond recognition. Obviously, the hair it had been compared with was hair from the dead body itself.

She felt guilty for having believed it, all of it, any of it. Looking at it now, it seemed absurd. How could she have mistrusted her son? How could she have thought that Danny was so wrong? They had warned her that there was a young man who believed that “Alex” loved him. A young man, they said, who didn't even know how lucky he was to be alive right now. A man who had made it his mission to prove that Alex was murdered, but whose digging could do more harm than good. 

The kind, white-haired man had told her that they would keep it out of the papers as much as possible. The other murders, the man had said, would be investigated by MI6, since their agent was the prime suspect. The only suspect. They would keep it out of the papers, but she had to put a stop to Danny Holt's digging, before he'd tell the police something that would prompt an investigation. By making Danny realise that “Alex” wasn't who he thought he was, he'd give up on trying to find out the truth. 

Frances really had thought she was doing the right thing when she said there were others. She had believed it. It was absurd. 

“At least that means there is only one dead person,” Danny said softly, sounding as if he was ashamed for seeing that as a positive thing. 

“Not necessarily,” Frances said. “The man told me that they found a lot of DNA in… in your attic. Multiple men, all of whom had disappeared. He showed me proof of all of it.” 

Alistair nodded softly. “I know who those men are.” 

Danny looked as shocked as Frances felt. Both looked at Alistair with wide open eyes. “You… you do?” Danny asked.

Alistair nodded. “Yes. And I know who killed them. We just need to figure out how to prove it.” He looked at Frances, and for the first time, smiled a little. “I'm sure you can help us with that.” 

Frances looked from Danny to Alistair and back. 

Danny looked confused, but relieved. He didn't doubt Alistair at all. 

To her surprise, she realised that neither did she. This man sitting in front of her, holding his boyfriends hand, was not the reclusive boy genius she had brought up. This man wasn't Alistair, the baby she had held in her arms and had named after his father. His father, the man who was an even worse parent than she had been, though in a completely different way. This man, who looked her in the eyes without blinking wasn't Alistair.

No, he was so much more than she could ever have hoped. 

He was her son, he was an adult, he was happy. His name was Alex, and they would figure this out, the three of them. She smiled at her son, and nodded. “We will clear your name, Alex.” It was the first time in her life she used his chosen name. 

She knew right then that she would never call him Alistair again.

“I'm at your side, Alex.” the name still sounded odd to her, it rolled off her tongue clumsily, but she'd have to get used to it. She meant it, she was at his side, a hundred percent.

Alex smiled, and this time it wasn't small and shy, but a proud, relieved smile. He nodded at her, then his smile disappeared and he looked at Danny. “Do you trust me?” he asked, with an uncharacteristic intensity to his voice.

Danny heard it too, but he simply nodded and said “Yes,” with so much conviction that Frances knew there wasn't a single doubt in his mind. 

Alex nodded again, and without letting go of Danny's hand, put his other hand to Danny's cheek, looked him in the eyes, and said “Good. Because we will have to use you as bait.”


	10. The riddle

Scottie hated just sitting around, waiting for Danny to return. While he was certain that Frances had believed him when he said that her son was dead, and a murderer, and that talking to Danny would potentially only make things worse, there was still one big problem to be solved. Alex was alive, and Scottie knew that he would do whatever he could to prove he wasn't the murderer. Perhaps he already knew that it really had been Scottie. Scottie had only shown the fake DNA test to Frances. MI6 knew that the dead body wasn't Alex, they just thought he was the murderer. Scottie's job at MI6 consisted of two things: keeping things like this out of the media, and handling internal investigations. Right now, he was investigating who it was who Alex had killed, and where Alex was hiding. While normally he would be able to request help from other agents, in this situation he couldn't. He was too deeply involved in all of this himself, and by asking other agents to help him, he risked getting exposed. 

He needed to find Alex, and get rid of him. 

Scottie had never truly given up on Danny ever loving him back, despite watching Danny go from boyfriend to boyfriend. The moment Alex walked into Danny's life, the hope Scottie had had got littler and littler, until there was barely any hope left. But he hadn't given up completely. And Danny had been incredibly grateful when Scottie picked him up at the police station, and when Scottie gave him Frances' address. Maybe he was finally seeing Scottie in a different light. 

It was funny; For months, Scottie had thought that if he could simply turn Danny and Alex against each other, Danny would see that Alex was not the right person for him. But Alex was clean, he had no skeletons in his closets, no secret affairs or mysterious friends. The only things Scottie had been able to find on him, were that he was going by a different version of his given name, Alistair, and that his mother was still alive, while his father hadn't died when he was a kid, but when he was already a grown up. 

Yes, it had seemed as if there was nothing he could do to keep Danny and Alex apart. But then, through his snooping, his interests had shifted. Weeks ago, he had called Danny to ask if he wanted to go out to dinner that night, and Danny told him that he was hiking with Alex and wouldn't be back for another five hours at least. Scottie had taken the opportunity to look around in Alex's home a bit. Moving the mouse of the laptop, he had seen that Alex was working on something that could only be interpreted as a lie detector. 

While selling “spies” to the KGB had been a welcome source of income for years, he knew that this thing Alex had found out, whether it worked or not, could be very interesting for the KGB. _Very_ interesting. And unfortunately too encrypted for him to be able to open it. 

Scottie hadn't been a spy for very long, but he had spent the last forty years of his life surrounded by them, so he knew how spies thought, how they worked, how they got messages to their loved ones. When Danny told him, a few days after Scottie had sent Alex the message saying he should disappear, that Alex 'needed a new battery for his laptop', he knew what that meant. There was a message for Danny in that laptop, and Scottie was fairly certain it was a back-up of the lie detector. When he found the cryptex, he immediately knew that he was right. 

Scottie took the cryptex out of his pocket now and tried another six-letter word at random. “papers”. It was not the answer. For days he had tried to crack it, but to no avail. Obviously, Alex had intended for Danny to be able to open it, so it couldn't be too hard. Scottie looked at his computer screen for a moment. The tracker in Danny's car showed he was still at Frances'. Once Danny was back, Scottie would have to try to get Danny to open it. He tried another word, “puzzle”. It wasn't it. 

****

The footage he had requested came in barely ten minutes after Danny had left Frances' house, and what Scottie saw, altered his plans more than he could have anticipated. He had initially asked for the security footage because he thought it strange that he hadn't been able to contact Danny in those few days between the discovery of the body and Danny being brought in for questioning. At first he thought that maybe Danny had ran, thinking he'd been framed by Alex. But now, looking at the security footage from the highway leading up to the petrol station where Danny had been picked up by the police, he was in for a surprise: Danny and Alex, in a car. Together. On the grainy footage it wasn't very clear, but Danny seemed distressed, while Alex looked the way he always did; calm and in control. 

Scottie stared at the footage and didn't know what to make of it. Were they hostage and hostage taker? It did look like it a bit, but why would they have come back to London? And why had only Danny been arrested? Did he willingly take the fall for all of it, knowing that Scottie would get him out? Did Danny still love Alex? Had everything he'd said before been a lie? The only thing he was absolutely sure of, was that Danny had lied to him about believing Alex was dead, and that caused a shift in Scottie's feelings for the young man. 

Scottie loved with all his heart when he loved at all, in an all encompassing, obsessive way. And when he stopped loving, he stopped loving for good. He had to find out what Danny knew, what threat he posed. Either was, there was no reason for him to trust Danny anymore. Or love him. Or protect him. While Danny was alive, he would never give up on trying to find out the truth. The only reason Scottie had left to want Danny to live, was because Danny was the only person who could crack the damn cryptex. 

Well, Danny and Alex. 

And if Danny didn't succeed, perhaps Scottie could get Alex to come back to save his damsel in distress. If he loved Danny, surely he would open the cryptex if Danny's life depended on it?

****

Scottie hid the cryptex in his bedroom before he went to open the door for Danny. 

Danny looked awful, even more worried than he had looked before he left. “Scottie, I need to tell you something,” he said, while pushing past Scottie into the house. He shut the door behind himself quickly, as if he was afraid someone might follow him in. He was scared. Perhaps even a bit paranoid. 

What had happened?

“Are you okay?” Scottie asked. For now at least, it was best to play it like he cared. Maybe Danny would even help him open the cryptex voluntarily. He followed Danny into the living room, and lingered by the doorway.

Danny was pacing around, with his coat still on, and was biting the skin next to the nail of thumb nervously. “I lied,” he said, and looked at Scottie for just a fraction of a second before looking at the floor again. “Alex is… Alex is alive.” 

Well, wasn't that a pleasant surprise? Why did Danny suddenly make a confession like this? Scottie didn't respond, he just watched Danny carefully. “How?” he asked. 

“I don't know how, I...” Danny stopped pacing for a few seconds, shook his head, and started again. “When I got the keys… I think Alex must have given me the keys, but when I mentioned it he refused to tell me anything. I got keys to his apartment, and went in, and then I opened the suitcase, and… well, I thought it was Alex, but suddenly Alex had me at gunpoint and told me to run or I'd die.” Danny shivered almost unnoticeable when he said it. 

Could it be that he was telling the truth?

“He said that he was MI6, and that there were people after him, and that we needed to run. I panicked, I did what he said. It was only when we were in a car, that I realised that-” Danny gasped, and clasped his hand over his mouth trying to keep a sob in. 

A few weeks ago, it would have broken Scottie's heart. He would have rushed to comfort him. But that was before Danny's cold rejection in this very room, it was before Danny became the means to an end, the key Scottie needed to open Alex's work, nothing more. 

Danny tried to even his breaths, and wiped some tears away, then he continued. “I realised that there was just one person who could have killed that man. Alex has a bloody camera above his door, no one could have come in without him knowing it. It was him. He killed that man!” He looked up at Scottie again, his eyes were brimming with tears. “He asked if I trusted him, and… fuck, he looked insane! Absolutely insane! So I said that I did, I pretended that I believed he was innocent. What else could I have done?.” Danny stopped pacing and sat down on the couch. He buried his face in his hands. 

Was all of this true? It would made sense if Alex didn't tell him anything: Danny was a civilian, the less he knew about MI6 the better, and if Alex really thought someone was after them, it was safer for Danny to know as little as possible. But surely he would have denied killing that man? And Alex had been convinced the truth would come out. He still thought, at least back then, that he wouldn't go down for murder. 

“Did he say anything about the dead man?” Scottie asked, trying and succeeding in making his voice sound worried and calming. 

Danny looked up. He seemed scared. “He… he did. Bloody hell, Scottie! He said that you did it, all of it. It's so fucking crazy! But I pretended to believe him. I know he did it, like I said there's a camera and everything… and I don't know why he is pinning it on _you_ of all people, but I didn't want to say anything like that in case he...” He swallowed hard. “I thought that he might kill me if I pushed too hard,” he said softly. Staring at the ground once more, he said “Alex hardly spoke to me at all. He didn't tell me where we were driving to, and he didn't tell me why we went back to London. He called the police on me, Scottie. When we were back in London. I went to the bathroom at a petrol station, and when I came back, he was gone. Minutes later, I was arrested. First he tried to convince me it was you, and now he is framing me.” Danny closed his eyes for a moment, to keep the tears in. “If you hadn't shown up, I would be in prison now.” 

As odd as it may sound, it was a logical explanation. Perhaps Alex wouldn't consciously frame Danny, since he knew he didn't kill the man in the suitcase. He believed that whoever _had_ done it, would have left enough evidence of their crime that he could solve this. That's why he came back to London: by arresting Danny, the police would think it was him who had committed the murder, which would give Alex time to figure out who had really done it. 

Scottie was quite certain he hadn't left any DNA on the body or in the attic, but he wasn't one to underestimate Alex's intellect. More than ever, he needed Danny to believe his fabricated version of events, and it looked like Danny already did that. 

“Alex's mum let it slip that he had killed before. Did you know that? MI6 told her, I think, though she of course said it was the police. She doesn't know I know he was a spy.” 

Frances had told Danny more than Scottie had anticipated, but perhaps that was even better. Everything that made Danny believe he was in danger, and that Alex needed to be stopped, was a plus. It wouldn't be too hard to let Alex know Danny was here, and that he would be killed if Alex didn't come to rescue him. If the cryptex was open by then, Scottie would shoot Alex on sight to “protect Danny from this murderer”. If the cryptex wasn't open yet, Scottie would force Alex to open the cryptex first, and then kill him. Either way, Scottie needed Alex gone, as soon as possible. 

“I'm so sorry,” Scottie said. He finally went over to where Danny was sitting and sat down next to him. He almost allowed himself to hope again when Danny smiled at him with gratitude, and took his hand. 

“Do you think they'll arrest me again? Thinking I've murdered Alex? Or will they find out that the dead body isn't Alex? That Alex is the one who… killed him?” 

“Alex is very intelligent,” Scottie said. “He must have done something to alter the DNA records.” 

Danny wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his coat. “Jesus,” he said softly. “I hadn't even considered that.” He squeezed Scottie's hand and looked him in the eyes intently. “There has to be proof!” he said, and it didn't sound as if he was trying to convince himself of it, but rather as if he had just thought of something important. “Alex keeps the receipts of everything he buys, there is no way he doesn't have records of this somewhere!” 

This was his chance. Perhaps it was the only chance he had at getting this done without harming Danny. “Danny…?” 

Danny looked at him with those big, hopeful eyes, and Scottie couldn't help but smile. “You know I used to be MI6.” 

Danny nodded. The hope in his expression grew. “Did you find something?” 

“Perhaps.” 

Danny's jaw dropped. Then he embraced Scottie, so suddenly that he almost pushed Scottie over. “Really?! Scottie, that's amazing!” He let go, and looked at Scottie with awe. Then he frowned. “Perhaps?” 

Scottie nodded. It felt good that Danny was so happy, so grateful. “I have found something, but it is password protected. Maybe you will be able to help me open it.” 

“He's encoded it?” Danny looked a lot less enthusiastic now. “I'm not exactly a codebreaker, am I?” 

True, but Alex had intended for him to open it. Scottie couldn't say that, of course. “I'll be right back,” he said, and went to his bedroom to retrieve the cryptex.

When he handed it to Danny, Danny looked at it with confusion. “I have never seen him with this before. Isn't this one of those things they use in the DaVinci Code?” 

“Yes.” 

Danny turned it over in his hands. “A six letter word,” he mumbled. 

Things were going exactly the way Scottie wanted them to go. He kept his expression neutral and tried not to seem too eager for Danny to crack it. 

“Where did you find this?” Danny asked.

“In his laptop,” Scottie said. 

Danny's eyes widened. He looked utterly shocked. 

Why?

Scottie was about to ask, but Danny held up his hand to keep Scottie from speaking. He was obviously trying to get his thoughts in order. “When we were on the run, Alex asked me what I had told you about our weekend away. I said I told you that Alex needed a new battery for his laptop. At the time I didn't realise what that meant, but now I do! He needed to know if you knew!” Danny started biting his fingers again. “He knows…” he whispered. Suddenly, Danny jumped up. “He knows!” he repeated. He looked terrified. “Alex knows you know about this!” 

Obviously. It didn't surprise Scottie in the slightest. Of course Alex knew that since Danny didn't find it, MI6 would. “I guess he does-” 

“You don't understand! Alex has anticipated you getting me out of prison! He knows I'm here! He wants this thing back, desperately so!” Danny started pacing around again, clenching the cryptex in his fist. “That's why he had me arrested! He wanted me to be at your place so he would know where I am, so he can come here and threaten me, so you'll give him this thing back! Scottie, he is using me as bait!” 

The weird thing was, Danny could be right about that. Alex knew how much the lie detector was worth, he wouldn't want it to fall into the wrong hands. And Scottie had always believed that Alex was a psychopath who desperately wanted to live a normal life. He didn't love Danny, not the way Scottie did. Alex didn't care about Danny's life. 

They would have to crack this thing, and quickly, before Alex would come here. 

“Danny, I'll keep you safe,” Scottie said, and motioned for Danny to come closer. 

Danny didn't hesitate, he wrapped his arms around Scottie and sobbed into his shoulder, letting Scottie embrace him, too. “What if he hurts you?” Danny mumbled. “You are the most important person in my life. The only person I trust.” 

Scottie felt like he was floating. Whatever happened with the cryptex, there was still hope for the two of them. “Don't worry about me.” He patted Danny on the back, and reluctantly ended their embrace. “It is really important that we open this, so we can duplicate the evidence before Alex can destroy it. Do you have any idea what the word could be?” 

Danny looked at the cryptex in his hand again. He chewed his lip, and started forming a word. “Daniel”. He tried to open it, but it wasn't the right word. He sighed frustratedly, then he piped up. “I might know it! Well, I don't know it, but I might know where to find the answer!” His eyes were gleaming.

Scottie tried not to get his hopes up too much, but couldn't stop himself from feeling a kind of nervous anticipation. “Where?” he asked.

Danny looked incredibly excited. “My diary. Alex knows I'm bad at maths, right? Well, I once said to him that I might be bad at maths, but that I'm really good at riddles, and I showed him a riddle I had in my diary and asked if he could solve it, and he laughed and asked if he could give me a riddle as well. He wrote some kind of mathematical limerick in my diary, and I haven't been able to solve it, but that's not the point. 'Cause he said something like… fuck, what was it? Something about riddles being the key to their own answer… let me think.” He was tapping his fingers against the cryptex in excitement. “Oh yes! He said 'Isn't it funny how, by giving someone a riddle, you're giving them the key to their own answer, and yet that key doesn't open anything but that answer?' Something like that. It sounded really bloody vague, but I think what he meant was, that he basically gave me the code to crack this thing, but I would never know that the key fit on it.” He looked at Scottie, and his excitement turned to insecurity. “Jesus. Scottie, he gave me a series of clues, didn't he? Saying that thing about his laptop, and about this puzzle. He knew I wouldn't be smart enough to understand them. It was a game to him.” 

“But you _are_ smart enough,” Scottie said. He knew something that Danny didn't know, which was that Alex hadn't underestimated him at all. In fact, Alex had left him this trail of breadcrumbs in case something might happen to him. He thought – he _knew_ – that Danny could solve it. But Danny thinking it was all just a game to Alex suited Scottie perfectly.

“His mum said something like that,” Danny continued, staring into the distance. “That I was a puzzle to be solved for him.” He sighed. Then he looked at Scottie and smiled. “We can solve it, together. And then we'll have prove of the things Alex has done. We can start anew.” 

Scottie smiled back at him. _We can start anew_. Danny had seemingly not even noticed that he said 'we'. He was right, though. With any luck, they would crack the cryptex even before Alex undoubtedly showed up. And when he did, Scottie was sure that Danny was so afraid of Alex that he wouldn't blame him for killing Alex to defend themselves. “Let's go fetch your diary,” he said. He would figure out what to do with the body later. Officially, Alex was dead already. The only inaccuracy would be the date on his tombstone. 

****

To Scottie's initial surprise, Danny directed him to a little shop not far from his flat. “I keep my diary in a pipe in the warehouse behind the shop,” he said. 

Scottie immediately suspected that it was a trap. Why would Danny want him to go into an empty warehouse? Was Danny working with Alex after all? Once again, Scottie thought of Alex and Danny in the car together. Maybe Danny had been there voluntarily, maybe all of the things he had said today were a lie… But Danny didn't ask him to go with him. He simply said “I'll be right back,” and got out of the car. Maybe Alex was planning on ambushing him when he was alone in his car? Or, if Danny had been telling the truth, Alex might anticipate that he'd go get his diary, and was waiting for Danny there, to hold him hostage until Scottie gave him his cryptex back? 

Scottie watched Danny walk towards the door, and made a decision. He had the cryptex in his pocket, and now he took his gun out of the glove compartment, and followed him. “Wait,” he said, and Danny turned around. He looked surprised, but not as if his plans were foiled now. Scottie followed Danny through the store, where Danny looked around and then opened a door. They both went through it quickly, and walked through the narrow hallway, into the storage room. 

Danny walked up to a pipe in the ceiling, and unscrewed the cap on it's end. He reached in, and pulled out a black notebook. “Got it,” He opened it, and started flipping through the pages, until he reached the empty pages. 

Scottie could almost see the question marks in Danny's brain. Whatever he had expected to find, it wasn't there. 

Interesting.

Danny looked at the blank page in front of him for a moment. Then he slowly started flipping through it again. 

Scottie's mouth twitched when he looked down at Danny. He knew what this meant. Danny was stalling for time. “You can't find it?” he asked. His voice was cold. Of course Danny couldn't find it, because it had been a lie. He had lured him out of the house, and whatever the purpose of that was, it had to do with Alex. Danny still loved Alex, he loved him and would never stop doing so. 

Danny didn't answer. He stopped flipping through the pages and looked up at Scottie. He looked terrified. And for the first time today, his fear wasn't an act. 

Scottie would cry if he wasn't so angry. This was it, then. A confirmation of the worst. 

He had a silencer on his gun, and he knew it would do the job. He knew that, because he had killed the last bloke with it, in Alex's house, and no one had heard it. Looking at Danny's face, at his tearful eyes and those lips that spoke only lies, he slowly moved his hand to the inner pocket of his coat. 

_Don't worry_ , he thought. _Dying doesn't hurt unless I want it to_.

****

**Before**

They talked the plan over again and again, until they were absolutely sure they all knew what they were supposed to do and when. Alex warned Danny that it was by no means a foolproof plan, but it -as they kept reminding each other- was the best plan they had. Time was of the essence right now. With every hour ticking by, the odds of Scottie receiving new information became bigger.

Eventually, Frances asked if they wanted to stay for lunch, and after just a moment's hesitation and a nod from Danny, Alex agreed. They sat at the big table, which had room for ten people, and for the first time in Alex's life, it didn't make him feel alone. Danny did that to him. His presence alone could scare off demons. Maybe that was the reason why Alex hadn't asked it all this time, even though the question had been on his mind ever since they went inside. Part of him didn't want to know, but part of him knew that he needed to be sure. He didn't want to ask it front of Danny though. They ate lunch in a kind of silence that this house had never seen before; a silence that was neither born form anger, nor was uncomfortable. 

While leaving the house, Alex gave Danny what was left of his cash. “Just in case,” he said, and put it in Danny's pocket before he could protest. Alex felt nervous when he walked Danny to his car. Danny had to go back to Scottie, something they had all agreed on, and neither of them liked. Before Danny got into his car, Alex embraced him. He held Danny tight, and both whispered “I love you” in unison. The words seemed to float towards the sky like smoke, and Alex wanted nothing more than to hold on to them, to hear and feel them for ever, to say them again and again. They kissed, a tender but confident kiss that was too much like a goodbye. Alex tried to convince himself it wouldn't be the last time. 

When he went back inside, his mother was sitting by the fire, looking into the flames as she had so often done when he was little. He sat down next to her, and finally asked the question, even though he was fairly sure he knew the answer. “Where is Alistair senior?” He couldn't bring himself to say “dad”. 

Frances didn't seem surprised by the question at all, she didn't even look up. “I sent you a funeral card,” she said, without any kind of emotion in her voice. 

The little black envelope had been in his post roughly seven years ago. He had looked at it, recognised his mum's handwriting, and had thrown it away without reading the card. Of course he'd known it was an invitation to a funeral. Something within him, a part of him he wasn't proud of, had secretly hoped it was his father's, not just some distant relative's. 

He didn't need to ask how his father had died, but Frances answered the unspoken question anyway, confirming what he already knew. “He didn't leave a note. He didn't have to.” 

Alex nodded softly. The reasons were obvious, weren't they? The anger over a lost spy career, the guilt he must have felt over the years of abuse… Maybe the images of the bruises he left on Alex's body had started haunting him in his dreams. Maybe walking past the empty room where his son once slept had started to feel like getting punched every time. Maybe he heard a voice every time he thought of him: _He is gone because of you_. “There was nothing left to say,” Alex agreed, saying the words softly, barely audible over the soft crackling sound of the fireplace. He looked into the flames, wondering why their warmth didn't seem to reach him. 

“For what it's worth...” Frances' voice sounded the way it had when she talked about how she thought he was dead. She was looking at him now, Alex could tell, but he kept his eyes on the flames and pretended not to see. He heard her take a deep, shaky breath. “I didn't know. Not until you left. I should have known, but I didn't. I didn't see it. Maybe I didn't _want_ to see it. Maybe, if I had been a better mother, I would have known, and I… If I'd known, I would have stopped him.” 

The flames danced around, licking the logs, looking way too cheerful for a conversation like this. “I know,” he said eventually. He looked Frances in the eyes – tearful eyes, full of regret - and said it again. “I know.” He meant it. 

She clenched her jaw and nodded tightly, a thank-you that couldn't be said in words. For a few minutes, they sat in near silence again, until Frances suddenly spoke again. Her voice had gone back to normal, confident and a bit cold, but Alex knew she meant ever word: “This time I will do everything I can to keep you from harm. You and Danny. Everything. Even if it is the last thing I'll ever do.” 

He nodded and locked at his watch. Danny, Frances and him had set their watches to the exact same second. For their plan to succeed, they couldn't afford any mistakes. Wrong timing could ruin everything. Scottie not being as predictable as Danny and Alex thought could ruin everything. 

One tiny mistake, a tiny flaw in their plan, and Danny would die. 

And just like his mum, Alex would rather die than let that happen.

****

**Now**

Alex got out of the car and went as close to the house as he dared, keeping his body low, so it was hidden by the hedges surrounding Scottie's garden. If Danny had followed the plan, the house would be empty by now. Danny's car was parked in front of the house, but Scottie's car was nowhere to be seen, and there were no lights on in the house. Good. They had indeed left then. 

While driving to Scottie's house, Frances had called every sexshop in London and emailed them a picture of Scottie, which Alex had gotten from Danny's facebook. She had pretended to be police, and asked if any of the employees recognised the man in the picture. They knew Scottie hadn't paid for the masks and sextoys by credit card, since Alex had looked at his bank accounts. 

They needed all the evidence they could get to link Scottie to the staged room, and to the body inside. The first phase of their plan depended on Danny though. He needed to convince Scottie he was on his side, while admitting he had lied about Alex being alive. They couldn't take the risk that Scottie might have looked at security footage surrounding Danny's arrest, and would see Alex, while Danny said he was dead. 

Then, Danny needed to get his hands on the cryptex and get Scottie out of the house. Alex had done his part roughly fifty minutes ago, and since the book had still been there, it seemed like the timing was working out.

Alex walked back until Frances saw him, and waved to indicate the coast was clear. She got out of the car with the lockpick set, and both quickly walked to the front door. If Danny did what he was supposed to do, they had the house to themselves for roughly an hour. That was how long Alex suspected it to take for Scottie and Danny to drive to the shop and back, and solve the puzzle there. If it didn't take them that long, Danny had to fake a panic attack, or do something else that would keep them away from the house until he was sure Alex and Frances would be gone. 

****

Frances was in awe of Alex. He worked as confidently and methodically as she had trained him to be, but underneath it all, he was guided by pure humanity. It was his love for Danny that made him put himself at risk like this. Breaking into a former spy's house was never a good idea, but they did it anyway, without hesitation. He hacked Scottie's computer within minutes, then he opened an encrypted file he had sent himself, and showed her all the information he had on the dead young men. 

After that, they worked in separate rooms; Alex was searching Scottie's computer and the rest of the bedroom, while Frances looked in the living room. She wore gloves, as did Alex, while opening every drawer and every cupboard. When she found nothing, she started flipping through the photo-albums. 

Finally, she found something. 

****

Alex wasn't sure he had really heard a sound, or it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But then he heard it again, the soft crunch of someone walking over the gravel to the front door. He ran to the living room to warn his mum, right at the moment that the front door opened. 

Both Alex and Frances immediately drew their guns and aimed them at Scottie. 

“My, my,” Scottie said. He didn't look scared or even surprised. While Alex was certain Scottie had a weapon on him, he didn't have it in his hand. Instead, he held the cryptex. He looked unarmed, which frightened Alex more than having a weapon aimed at him would. 

Where was Danny?

Scottie closed the door behind himself and looked from Alex to Frances and back. “Like mother like son,” he said, looking awfully smug. 

Alex had to concentrate hard to keep his hand from shaking. Where the hell was Danny? Scottie was back much earlier than they had agreed on. It either meant that Scottie hadn't even tried to solve the limerick, or, contrary, that he had cracked the cryptex immediately, which could only mean that-

“To answer your question,” Scottie said, walking slowly through the hall towards them until he was in the living room too, “I have opened your little device. Would you like to see?” 

Alex hadn't thought it was possible for him to feel even more panic then he had felt that morning in the maze, but now he knew it was. It felt as if an icy hand had been rammed straight through him, right under the sternum, and was squeezing his organs together into a cold, ripped apart mess. It got difficult to breathe, and for a moment he saw black dots in his vision. 

Had Scottie killed Danny for that information? Had he not believed Danny's act, had Danny told him the password in a desperate attempt to save his life? Had Scottie killed him anyway?

Scottie opened his hand. The cryptex was open. He grinned at Alex. “These things aren't hard to open once you know the word, right? And Danny told me.” 

Was he tortured? Or did he…?

Scottie smirked. “I know how the game works,” he said, only addressing Alex. He didn't seem worried in the slightest that either of them might shoot him. Of course he wasn't worried. He was right, he knew how the game worked, and so did Alex and Frances. Scottie knew that if they thought Danny was dead, there would be nothing stopping them from shooting him. “Danny is alive, but I don't know how long he will be.” 

_His word means nothing. It means nothing. Of course he's saying this, he knows he will die the moment he says Danny is dead…_

Like it had been in the maze, simply thinking the words didn't convince him of it. Scottie could be bluffing. But they couldn't risk shooting him and having Danny bleed out somewhere, or slowly choke to death. 

“What do you want?” Alex asked, and it surprised him how detached his voice sounded. _Like mother like son._

“I want both of you to put your weapon on the ground. Then I want you to kick the weapons towards me.” Scottie said calmly. He was in control completely, and he knew it. 

Alex hesitated just a second. They couldn't be sure Danny and Scottie had retrieved the book at all. Scottie could have driven them anywhere within a certain radius, and have left Danny somewhere in a building, or by the side of the road, or in the woods. Even if a massive search party went looking for Danny, they still wouldn't be sure they'd find him in time. Alex slowly bent his knees and put his gun on the floor. 

“Why would you let him survive? He can testify against you.” Frances said. She didn't believe him, that was obvious, and she was right to distrust him. Alex was glad she was still thinking straight, and also that she was still holding her gun. 

“Because I have a soft spot for the boy,” Scottie said, once again only addressing Alex. “As you probably know. And because you need a reason to help me. And last but not least, because no testimony can do any good when I'm in a country without extradition.” 

He was planning to flee. After selling the lie detector he would without a doubt be able to live comfortably for the rest of his life. 

Frances stared him down for a moment longer, then she put her gun on the ground too, and both kicked their guns towards Scottie.

Scottie picked one of the guns up, and pushed the other one behind himself with his foot, into the hallway. “Thank you,” he said with a smirk. “Now, if you'd both be so kind as to go to my computer, this might be over in time to save Danny.” 

He had no choice. The lie detector could do a lot of damage, but this was about Danny's _life_. Alex didn't hesitate. He grabbed Frances by the arm and walked into the bedroom again, where the computer was still on. She went to stand next to him, with her face to Scottie, who stayed in the doorway, still with the gun in his hand. Alex turned around on his chair and held out his hand. 

Scottie threw the cryptex at him, and Alex caught it one handed. 

He closed the windows he had open and plugged in the USB. The security question appeared on the screen. _Even though the odds are small – you and me._ He typed in the password: soulmates. The pages started loading terribly slowly. “And now?” he asked, without turning around. Every second the odds of Danny being alive when they found him got smaller. 

“Frances, there is an external hard drive in the drawer next to you,” Scottie said. “Take it out and give it to Alex.” 

Frances did as she was told, and gave the rectangular, black hard drive to Alex, who plugged it in as well. If he duplicated the research, his security questions came with it, and while it wasn't too hard to guess, it could possibly slow Scottie down when he opened it later. Alex didn't dare putting another security measure in right now; while his back partly obscured the screen, he wouldn't take the risk that Scottie saw it. 

The pages had finally loaded, and he copied it to Scottie's hard drive. It would take twenty seconds. He tried not to imagine how much blood could gush out of a bullet wound in that amount of time. 

Finally, it was done. He was just about to unplug the hard drive, when they all heard the sound of a door opening. 

“Scottie, I'm home!” Danny's cheerful voice echoed through the hall.

It was like someone knocked all the air out of Alex's lungs at once. 

Danny was alive. 

He was alive, and he called this place home, and he sounded like he didn't have a care in the world. 

His footsteps became louder as he first walked to the living room, and then towards them. Alex mouth was dry and he couldn't breathe. Danny appeared behind Scottie, who didn't lower his gun but briefly looked over his shoulder at Danny. There was so much fondness in both of their smiles when they looked at each other, that Alex's heart felt like it was being torn in two. 

Alex had been played.

By _both_ of them. 

****

**Before**

Scottie had believed him. It was draining to keep this up, to betray Alex like this, even though it was in words, not deeds, and though it was to help him. The plan was both simple and flawed at once: make Scottie believe you had no choice, make him think you are on his side, and get him out of the house. 

Tell him the answer is in your diary, stall for time, and make sure that once you open it, he doesn't know the answer is 'virgin', not 'eleven', like the answer to the riddle. 

Danny was terrified the whole time through. If they didn't leave the house on time, Scottie might see Alex or his mum while driving away. But Alex also needed the time to get to the diary, find an empty spot somewhere in the middle, and write down a riddle to which the answer was a number. The riddle would occupy Scottie for some time, time that Alex and Frances needed to search for evidence in his house. 

He had hoped Scottie would come into the warehouse with him, so they could work on the riddle in there. When Scottie seemed to stay in the car, he'd felt a moment of panic, though it did mean he could pretend that getting the diary was a lot more difficult than it actually was. But then, Scottie did get out of the car and went in with him. That was good. It was according to plan. 

When Danny took out the notebook, he was so nervous he felt as if he was about to throw up. What if Alex hadn't been here in time? Or if he would arrive now? He tried to convince himself that Alex would have been on time. Alex was nothing if not punctual. 

“Got it,” he said, and started searching for Alex's riddle. Obviously, he had no idea how long it would be, but it had to be fairly complex for Scottie to believe he couldn't have figured it out himself. He turned page after page while Scottie looked on, and with every page he turned, he got more nervous. Then, faster than expected, he reached the first blank page. 

No.

Oh God no. 

For whatever reason, it wasn't there. He tried not to let his panic show, and looked through it again. Maybe he had turned two pages at once. Or simply overlooked it. 

“You can't find it?” Scottie asked. He sounded terrifying, like he was suppressing his rage. _He knew. It was over._ Danny looked up at Scottie, at the bitter expression on his face, and knew this was how he was going to die. 

As Scottie slowly moved his hand to his pocket, Danny did what he did best. Pretend nothing was wrong. “He must've torn the page out,” he said, and continued flipping through the pages slowly. Even if he was going to die, he could still buy Alex some time, couldn't he? 

He flipped another page, and suddenly saw it. The poem was much smaller than he'd expected, scribbled into the margin of the page. “Oh wait, there it is,” he said calmly, trying not to show his relief and pretending not to see Scottie move his arm away from his pocket. 

He started reading the poem out loud, and stopped when Scottie started reading over his shoulder. Looking at Alex's familiar handwriting, he realised once again just how smart Alex was. There had been two requirements to the riddle: one, that the solution had to be a number with six letters (they had agreed on 'eleven'), and two, that it had to be complex. 

Alex hadn't simply used numbers, he had called 'six' a 'half dozen', and referred to 'forty-eight' as 'one-third of a gross'. It was amazing. 

Scottie looked at it for a few minutes, then he said “Try 'twelve'.” 

Danny did, even though he knew it was not the answer. Alex had told him he'd make the answer 'eleven', and Danny didn't rule out the possibility that this was a test from Scottie. “It won't open,” he said. 

Scottie calculated it again, mumbling to himself. “Eleven,” he said then. “I made a stupid mistake the first time.” 

Danny turned the rings of the cryptex again, holding it in such a way that Scottie didn't see he formed the word 'virgin'. Then he held the device upside down and took the top off, casually letting two folded up notes slide into his sleeve. It was the info Alex had on Scottie, and a short note explaining the situation. “It opened!” he said, and slightly shook his arm as if he was really excited, to make the notes fall down to his elbow. 

Scottie got up, and Danny gave him the cryptex. “It's a USB,” Scottie mumbled. “Interesting.” 

“So, what are we going to do now?” Danny asked, keeping his arm bent a bit, so the notes wouldn't fall out. 

“Now I'm going to look at the evidence.” Scottie said. “At MI6. I'll drop you off at your flat first.” 

What? No! That was not supposed to happen! Alex expected him to be at Scottie's house later, once they called the police to tell them Scottie was the murderer and that Alex was alive. “Are you sure I'm safe there?” he asked. “Isn't it better if I stay at your house?” 

Scottie was still looking at the USB. He put it in his pocket, and then looked at Danny. He smiled. “You said it yourself, before. Alex expects you to be at my house. You aren't safe there. I'll come pick you up after I've given the evidence to MI6, if you want.” 

Danny nodded. What else could he do? Of course he knew that Scottie wouldn't give the USB to MI6. He simply said he was going there to have an excuse to not take Danny home. Scottie needed the house to himself so he could look at Alex's research undisturbed, and make arrangements to sell it. When Scottie turned around, and started walking back to the store, Danny glanced at his watch. Solving the riddle hadn't taken Scottie that much time. The drive there must have been shorter than he'd thought as well. Fuck. Alex and Frances would still be there, and he had no idea what would happen if they didn't see him arrive with Scottie. Alex would panic. Everything could go to shit. 

Unless...

****

“Pavel!” he screamed, running towards Pavel's bedroom. Scottie had dropped him off, and there was no time to be wasted. Danny opened Pavel's door, finding Pavel lying on his bed, listening to music on his headphones with his eyes closed. He could hear the beat loud and clear even from this far away. No wonder Pavel hadn't heard him. Danny ran in, and shook Pavel's shoulder. 

Pavel startled, but grinned when he saw Danny and took off his headphones. “Hey man, where've you-” 

“Can I borrow your moped?” Danny asked, cutting him off. 

Pavel looked stunned for a moment, surprised by the urgency in his voice. Then he pointed at his messy desk. “Keys,” he said. 

With any luck, he'd make it there before Scottie did. And if he didn't, he'd have to improvise. “Thanks!” Danny said, grabbed the keys, and ran to his own bedroom. There was another set of keys he needed. 

Ten minutes later, Danny left the moped behind at the corner of the street, and ran as quickly and silently as he could towards Scottie's front door. Scottie's car was there, so he was definitely home. Danny had a key to Scottie's house, for emergency's. He had never used it in all those years, and could only hope that Scottie had never changed his locks in the meantime. He tried to open the door silently, but the sound it made was so loud that he immediately knew that everyone who was inside would have heard it, so he said “Scottie, I'm home!” 

It didn't make a lot of sense, but maybe the surprise of hearing these words would keep Scottie from shooting him the moment he saw him. There was a gun on the ground. Fuck. It was Alex's gun, he had no doubts about that. But where was Alex himself? And Frances? Did she still have her weapon? Were they still inside? More importantly, were they still alive? Danny picked the gun up and held it behind his back, while walking into the living room. No one was there.

Danny pretended to himself that he wasn't terrified, that he wasn't picturing the love of his life dead, and went towards Scottie's bedroom, paying attention to any sound he heard that might indicate that Alex or Frances was close by. 

Scottie was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, and Danny could tell by his stance that he was aiming a gun, even before he could look past Scottie and saw Alex and Frances look at him with shock. 

Danny's heart broke when he saw the look in Alex's eyes. There was nothing but utter betrayal and pain. Danny kept the gun behind his back as he approached. Scottie turned his head to look at him, and Danny forced a smile. 

Scottie looked forward again, at Frances and Alex. He nodded.

“Looks like you were right,” Danny said. “Alex did come here to kill me.” 

****

How could Danny be in league with Scottie? This whole time? It didn't make any sense. But here he was, smiling at Scottie, not bothered in the slightest that Scottie had Alex at gunpoint. 

Scottie smirked at Alex, and nodded to the hard drive, which was still plugged in. He opened his mouth to say something, when Danny said “Looks like you were right. Alex did come here to kill me.” 

Danny moved his hand forward very slowly, showing Alex he had a gun in his hand. While keeping it aimed at the ground, he made a movement with his arm, indicating the recoil of a gunshot. He made the motion again, looking Alex straight in the eyes. 

Then he winked. 

****

Danny could see the exact moment that Alex realised what he was trying to say. Then, everything happened incredibly fast. He fired his gun, and Alex screamed and fell to the ground. 

Scottie looked at Alex for a second, too surprised to react, too shocked to aim his gun at Frances or at the dead body on the ground. In this second, while Scottie was aiming at thin air, Danny had the guts to do it. He didn't hesitate, and shot Scottie in the shoulder. 

The pain and shock made Scottie's arm fall to his side. The bullet had gone right through, and lodged itself into the wall across from him, barely fifty centimetre next to where Frances was standing. Despite almost getting hit, she didn't hesitate. She jumped forward and grabbed Scottie's wrist with both hands, somehow causing him to drop his gun. 

Danny kicked Scottie in the back of the knees, making his knees bend, so he fell down. Even through Scottie's dark coat, the fast growing bloodstain was clearly visible. 

Frances took the fallen gun away before Scottie could even try to reach it, and held him at gunpoint. “I _won't_ go for the shoulder,” she said calmly. 

“He has another gun in his pocket I believe,” Alex said, and got up. 

“He does,” Frances and Danny said at the same time. 

Alex leaned down and reached into Scottie's coat, removing the gun carefully. His hand came back bloodied. “Danny, you know where the phone is, could you call an ambulance? Mum, there has to be a first aid kit somewhere, could you…?” 

Frances had already left the bedroom, and Danny stood there for a moment longer, as Alex applied pressure to the bullet wound with both hands. Then Danny shook himself out of his daze and went to get the phone. 

Frances returned with a first aid kit, and when Danny went back into the bedroom, Alex was already patching Scottie up, who didn't say a word. He knew he was beaten. 

Danny didn't know what he was supposed to say, so handed the phone to Frances, who called an ambulance. Then she called MI6, and gave a very brief explanation which was mostly meant to ensure no one would get shot by MI6 once they saw their wounded employee and a supposedly dead agent with blood on his hands. 

Alex was done, and got up. He only had eyes for Danny. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. 

Hearing the worry in his voice made everything that had happened come crashing down on Danny at once. He had shot a person who'd meant so much to him for nine years. But it was a person who had betrayed him, who had wanted to frame and kill the love of his life. Maybe that was the worst part; that Scottie had not been the person Danny had always thought he was. He had caused the worst night in Danny's life, and in the past week he had made him a fugitive and a suspect and turned him into someone who didn't know what to believe anymore. It made him sick that he once trusted him. 

His hands started shaking, his vision got blurry, and before he could steady himself, he sank to the floor and started crying his eyes out. 

****

Four MI6 agents arrived at the scene, even before the ambulance did. If Danny weren't so heartbroken and scared, he probably would have been impressed. 

Frances, Alex and Danny were brought to MI6 headquarters where they were questioned separately. Alex worried about Danny the whole time, but he knew they had nothing to fear anymore. He explained the situation to the agent who was questioning him, starting right at the very beginning, with the encrypted message he had received, the message that was definitely from a MI6 agent. The message Scottie had used to get rid of him for a few days while he planted the dead body. 

Alex knew that other agents were listening in, and working to verify his story. Multiple times during questioning, someone came in to hand the agent some new information. Alex also told the agent that they had already emailed the sexshops to ask if anyone had seen Scottie in their shop. Just minutes later they received the news that an employee had recognised Scottie, contacted the police, and that the security footage of that week was ready to get picked up. 

The last thing Alex told the agent, was everything he knew about the other dead boys, and the link with Scottie's financials. If he was impressed, the agent didn't let it show, but all three of them were free to go that very evening. 

They drove past Danny's flat first, picking up some clothes, and giving Pavel and Sara a short explanation, then Frances drove them to her house. Frances heard, through a contact she even refused to name to Alex and Danny, that Scottie had cracked, and confessed everything. He must have realised that it was over anyway. He would survive his bullet wound, but he'd never be a free man again. 

It was over, all of this. 

That night, Alex fell asleep with his arms around Danny and a feeling that everything would be okay. He didn't wake up once. 

****

**Six months later**

The papers still called it “The suitcase murders”, even though just one of the men had been found in a suitcase. The families of some of the men who had never been found, finally had some kind of closure. They released a joint statement, thanking the unnamed MI6 agent who had uncovered it all. 

Alex never went back to his flat. It was tainted, somehow. 

MI6 brought his stuff to the new flat he had picked out with Danny, and after a few days, the flat was filled with Alex's books and Danny's mess. It felt like home. 

Danny received grief counselling from an expert from MI6, and after a while, the conversations turned from what he'd lost and been through, to what he had and was capable of. Not long after, Danny quit his job at the warehouse, and applied for university again. English literature, the same studies he had started ten years ago. 

Now that Alex didn't have to lie about his job anymore, there were no more secrets between them. It was freeing. Frances came over almost every week, or they visited her. Danny was still friends with Pavel and Sara, who were still incredibly impressed by Alex and his job. It had been impossible to tell them what had happened without disclosing that Alex was the unnamed agent who the papers praised so much, and they knew they had to keep it a secret, a job they took very serious.

“Alex?” 

“Mmmh?” 

They were lying in bed, on a lazy Sunday morning. Alex had stopped running every morning, partly to please Danny, who liked sleeping in together, and partly because he didn't need it anymore. The nightmares about the maze got fewer and fewer with every passing month. 

Danny was still half asleep, but there was a little bit of excitement in his voice as well. “Let's go away for the weekend!” he said, and turned around in Alex's arms so he was facing him. 

Alex smiled, and softly ran his hand through Danny's tousled hair. “Sure. But I need a battery for my laptop first.” 

For just a split second, Danny looked confused. Then he realised what he meant, and started laughing, hard. “Oh my God, Alex!” He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and punched Alex softly in the arm. 

Alex laughed, and caught his hand before he could do it again. He sat up as well. “Was that too far?” he asked, suddenly concerned.

Danny shook his head and smiled at him. “Not at all. Honestly, I'm just glad we can make jokes about it, now.” 

Alex nodded. “Me too.” 

They had survived. They had come out stronger. He had fixed the relationship with his mum in the process, and Danny's life was more on track than it had been before. They were living together, they loved each other more than ever before, and they knew for a fact that nothing could tear them apart.

They were okay, and they were together.

Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry this update took so long, but the real life deadlines were back in full force, and this chapter got LOOONG. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!


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